control, release

by ultramarine_spirit

Summary:

If Kromer had decided to become one with him, to accept him fully, then she wasn’t allowed to take that away. She didn’t get to take that need away. She belonged to him as much as he belonged to her.

Sinclair doesn't know how to deal with the sudden loss of Kromer's touch.

Sinclair knew he had committed an unforgivable mistake.

 

His right hand gripped the heretic that had just received his holy punishment by its metallic throat— if such a thing could be even called a throat, a body. No, Sinclair quickly decided, the thing was merely imitating something so sacred as the human form. A revolting sight he would get rid of.

 

With more force than needed, he threw what remained of the lifeless prosthetic body into the scorched floor, finalizing its execution with a swift thrust of his halberd into that filthy parody of a head. It brought him satisfaction, but not enough to silence the growing anxieties within his chest.

 

The Kleinhammers would soon arrive to take care of the corpses, or rather, the trophies their latest purge had earned them. Faithfully, they would display them for everyone to see, nailed down to the ground. That was the only way, Kromer assured him, in which they could help those lost souls atone for their sins. Desecrating their bodies, the very essence of their being, getting rid of their humanity, all in the name of attempting to overcome human limitations. It was nothing more than an insidious form of vanity and arrogance he knew very well. He had seen it up-close, after all. Sinclair could only pity them, for believing they could replace the sanctity of the flesh with unfeeling machinery.

 

“You are kind, my Sinclair. But your compassion is much more than what those infidels deserve”, was what Kromer had whispered to him some weeks ago, their legs still entangled together.

 

“Don’t waste your goodwill on them. The only thing we can do, that we must do, because such is our duty, is to put an end to their miserable existences.” Despite the nature of their conversation, Kromer’s voice was sweet, intimate. As if trusting him with one of her secrets. “We’ll make an example out of them, so that no more good people give in to the temptation of destroying themselves.”

 

He had blushed, embarrassed of still harboring the naïve feelings of a child, but Kromer didn’t chastise him as Sinclair had expected. Instead, she smiled, her mouth traveling from his collarbone all the way to the corner of his lips, until Sinclair’s gaze begged her to close the distance between them.

 

In one those rare moments of tenderness Kromer reserved only for him, she had then kissed him, erasing the stubborn doubts that still lingered in the back of his head.

 

His trembling fingers grasped Kromer’s silver hair with unspoken devotion. It was far from the first time they enjoyed one another, but Sinclair found himself falling deeper and deeper for her with each one of their indulgences.

 

He knew that one day his desires would swallow him whole.

 

And for the first time in his life Sinclair realized, this must be what love feels like. The sensuality of the flesh, their exchange of warmth, a proximity that brought Kromer as close as their bodies allowed them. The act of loving her was just like loving himself.

 

A sharp whistle cut his thoughts off.

 

Every one of the Hammers turned their heads towards the sound, most of them in reverence, but some, Sinclair noticed with a small amount of distaste, seemed to tremble in fear. It was only natural for their Kleinhammers to take some time adapting to their new lives, and he supposed fear was only a step away from veneration, but it bothered him, nonetheless.

 

From the village’s largest building emerged their leader, the burning structure as the perfect backdrop to emphasize her magnificent figure. Sinclair could only watch her descend the cobblestone steps, enraptured for a couple of seconds, his breath caught inside his throat.

 

Why be afraid of Kromer when adoration should come much more easily?

 

Nothing filled his chest with that burning feeling of pride he had so craved in his younger years like standing next to Kromer did. Kromer, who looked around the town square with a content expression until her eyes fell on him, then narrowed them in satisfaction. That moment alone was so fulfilling and soul-expanding, as if completeness was just within his reach.

 

Was I able to please her?

 

“Listen up, my inquisitors!” She spoke, and just then Sinclair noticed Guido following her close behind, grabbing one of the heretics by its head. Judging by the particular design of the uniform the corpse donned, it had been the head administrator of the group of small villages they had just purified.

 

“My true and faithful Hammers, be glad! For today we have extinguished one of the many fires of blasphemy that threated to destroy our beloved City.”

 

The head under Guido’s palm made a pitiful, electric noise, but it was barely heard, drowned by the exalted cries of the inquisitors inspired by Kromer’s words. The Großhammer seemed to have heard it, however, because his grip tightened with noticeable strength.

 

“This day shall mark the beginning of a purer and brighter and more perfect tomorrow for all the poor souls, the humans made of flesh, and blood and bone that lived among—” Kromer paused her impassionate speech for a second, gesturing for Guido to lift up the heretic's body, now fully on display. The sight was pathetic, its body torn apart beyond recognition. Sinclair noticed, his gaze unflinching, how the lower half of it had been completely removed, and what only remained was a mangled mess of wires and dangling scraps of metal.

 

“Scum like this.” She resumed, reaching for the nail by her hip. “Be proud of yourselves, because you have protected Paradise, the gift of humanity. You have protected it like a soldier protects his homeland.”

 

With practiced rituality, Guido extended the body in front of Kromer, lowering his head, as he was not worthy of witnessing their One Who Grips enacting her divine punishment so closely, so near to that unmasked glory. Still, Sinclair envied him. That treacherous heart of his wanted to be besides Kromer, wanted to be the helpful hand in which she could lean on for such sacred duty.

 

Ignorant of his inner turmoil, Kromer advanced closer towards the heretic, now holding nail and hammer. In a way, that was the truest kind of happiness a being like that could achieve, meeting its end by her hand. It ought to be grateful for that, Sinclair mused. A final chance for atonement.

 

Drawing a beautiful arch with her movements, Kromer raised her nail, sharp, glinting under the lights of the cleansing fires behind her.

 

And then, with a strength that didn’t seem to fit her body, she struck it down, the metallic sound of the hammer meeting the nail’s head reverberating around them. Surprisingly, the heretic still had enough life to manage to squirm wretchedly like a worm. But it did not matter, as soon its contorting stopped, pierced from the throat to the mauled torso.

 

It was no more.

 

The fervent screams of their Hammers came almost instantly, repeating Kromer’s title as if in deep, exhilarated prayer. Even the novices that had been trembling in their boots, making their heavy armors clacket with each tremor, were now part of that joyous multitude.

 

Sinclair, of course, kept his eyes glued to Kromer, feeling his chest raise and fall as if he had been the one that nailed the corpse. Perhaps he was starting to feel more in-tune with Kromer these days. That was his hope.

 

“We’ll remake the City, shaping it into the kind of place where our love for humanity won’t be such an exceptional thing.”

 

Ah, how beautiful she was, her perfect smile, standing proudly at the center of them, being made for just that. He felt his cheeks heating up, but that surely must have been from the burning pyres all around them.

 

“The One Who Grips declares.”

 

“The One Who Grips declares!”

 

Let it be so.

 

Sinclair approached her, the inquisitors parting ways before him. It took him some time to get used to receiving the unwavering respect from others. Not to the same degree as Kromer (for there wasn’t anyone else like Kromer), but the closest one could get within Nagel und Hammer’s hierarchy.

 

Authority still felt like a weapon he didn’t quite know how to wield. He struggled, from time to time, settling into the role that had always belonged to him, as she said. But it wasn’t an unwelcomed position, he had discovered feeling the thrill of commanding others into the battlefield.

 

Some meters away from him, Kromer laughed gleefully, satisfied with the body hanging in front of her. She was always briming with happiness, after liberating a village or obtaining a particularly hard-earned victory against the rebels that defied them. Smiling so freely, she reminded Sinclair of the old Kromer he knew. For a second, between the flickers of flying sparks, she was her younger self, dressed not in her perfectly tailored white shirt but in the muted tones of their old school uniform. She was laughing not at the sight of a mangled corpse, but at one of Sinclair’s blunders, leaning over his shoulder.

 

The Kromer only Sinclair knew.

 

Her eyes widened a bit, having caught his gaze.

 

“Sinclair!”

 

At last, he could hear her call out his name, the thing he had been craving for hours. Kromer smiled broadly at him, looking more innocent than she should be allowed to, gesturing for him to come to her side.

 

“Everything finished on your front?”

 

He nodded, sparing Guido a quick glance of acknowledgment when the Großhammer lowered his head.

 

“It was surprising, how little resistance there was this time around. I skewered sixteen of them with not much issue.” There was some pride he didn’t try to conceal in his voice. He quite enjoyed having Kromer tend to his wounds on the occasions when a heretic or Fixer managed to land a blow on him, but showing off how far his skills had come was even more satisfying. To answer the high expectations she had for him.

 

Kromer considered his words carefully, and then spoke.

 

“A smaller number than what our previous reports had shown. The records from earlier this year accounted for around two hundred residents with fully prosthetic bodies, almost double the amount of what we purified today. What do you think is the reason?”

 

Sinclair stilled for a second, noticing the lack of Kromer’s usual compliments that followed suit whenever he spoke of his exploits. Most of the time, she would be all over him, already thinking about how to reward his efforts.   

 

Come to think of it, a similar thing happened last time.

 

“It would have been impossible for them to know of our arrival.” Not soon enough to evacuate so many people in silence. The area was isolated, surrounded by thick forests, and news didn’t travel fast. Not unlike what Kalf had been. An idyllic place privileged even compared to a Nest’s standards, where the wealthy could live their lives ignorant and unbothered by the violent reality outside of their comfort. But also, a place where filth emerged and reproduced, all while hiding under a veneer of progress and refinement.

 

“But they did.”

 

Kromer’s merry tone disappeared, and Sinclair felt his stomach drop. A mistake.

 

She shook her head.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Sinclair~ You had a long day, isn’t that right? We woke up before sunrise, and marched for many hours.” Kromer’s naked hand caressed his upper arm lightly, rubbing circular motions that quickly coaxed the tension out of him. “And you did such a good job executing all of those filthy heretics. You make me very proud, like always…”

 

He wanted to lean into the touch, close the short distance between him and Kromer and rest his head over her shoulder. She was right, despite his physical condition improving dramatically ever since their school days, today’s mission had left him exhausted. Only now, when the adrenaline had died down, did he notice how weary his body had grown over the course of the day.

 

“Then…”

 

This was when they would retire for the night, their Hammers already having secured a proper place for them to rest. Usually one of the buildings that had been left untouched by their purifying fires, the ones not sullied by heresy, because Kromer couldn’t stand sleeping in a place filth had tainted. Sinclair, of course, was of the same opinion.

 

They would bath together, and she would take her sweet time washing his hair, removing all traces of blood and cinder. Some other times, if she was particularly tired, Kromer would just enjoy soaking in the water with him for as long as she could, until the water cooled down, resting against his chest or his shoulder blades. Sinclair took great pleasure in their naked closeness, rare times when Kromer’s self-control would slip, revealing a hint of vulnerability.

 

However, those occasions were becoming more and more infrequent. He looked back on the past weeks, trying to find the source of Kromer’s increasingly withdrawn behavior, but couldn’t discover anything out of the ordinary. It wasn’t as if she was treating him coldly, but her subtle changes were there. If anyone in the world could notice, that person was Sinclair.

 

It was as if Kromer was trying to rebuild a boundary that hadn’t existed between them in a long, long time. The most glaring sign being the sudden end to their physical intimacy.

 

Sinclair wasn’t sure what was the unforgivable mistake he had committed, severe enough to be deserving of Kromer’s rejection, but he had clearly done something wrong. Just thinking about losing the precious connection that tied the two together made his hands tremble with badly concealed anxiety.

 

“You can go ahead and rest for the night, my Sinclair.” Kromer cupped his left cheek briefly, and then, as if thinking better of it, removed her hand. “Our temporary residence should be ready, isn’t that right?”

 

She glanced towards Guido, who, truth be told, Sinclair had completely forgotten was there.

 

“An appropriate building has already been seized, One Who Grips.” The man answered without moving from his position, standing completely upright.

 

He was… odd. While his unwavering devotion for Kromer and their cause was something Sinclair respected, he also couldn’t deny how uneasy the Großhammer made him feel. Perhaps it was due to the iron mask he wore making it impossible to discern his expressions. But she trusted Guido, and he always proved himself as deserving of that trust, so Sinclair couldn’t find any reasonable excuse to openly disapprove of him.

 

“The Kleinhammers will escort you there, One Who Shall Grip.”

 

If Guido noticed how Sinclair’s gaze hardened at his words, he didn’t show it.

 

“Wonderful!” Kromer, also not noticing Sinclair’s growing discomfort, patted his back as light encouragement. “Have something to eat too. You always forget unless I’m there to remind you.”

 

Under normal circumstances, her caring words would have pleased him. She always sounded so impossibly happy when it was time to dine together. ‘Hunger, be it of flesh, or of bread, is sacred’, she would say with a knowing smile, hinting at what was to come afterwards.

 

It was sacred for Sinclair too. That feeling of togetherness he had thought lost when they had gotten rid of their need for substance. Just a meaningless ritual for them, like sleeping, or praying, or holding another person’s hand, but for Sinclair…

 

He gripped Kromer’s cape before she had the chance to get away from him.

 

“What about you?”

 

Why won’t you come with me? When will you have dinner with me again? Tell me what kind of mistake I have made, so I can erase it, so I can—

 

“There are a couple of things I still need to take care of, my dearest Sinclair.” Kromer ignored the hand holding her down and took some steps backwards. “It’ll be better if you go first.”

 

He wanted to refuse, but quickly bit his cheek at the thought of disobeying her. What would he gain by acting like a spoiled child? Give her another reason to be disappointed in him? Prove he was unworthy of standing by her side?

 

“Very well.”

 

After a brief pause, he nodded.

 

“Good boy.”

 

And with that, the conversation was over.

 

Just as Guido had said, a group of Kleinhammers soon approached him. One of them, probably on the verge of becoming a Mittlehammer judging by the number of wax seals he proudly displayed over his chest plate, attempted to talk to him.

 

“One Who Shall Grip, sir, please follow me—"

 

Whatever inane platitude he was about to spat died down inside his throat after taking a look at Sinclair’s darkening expression. The novice Hammers often whispered about his oppressive bloodlust, quite different from the One Who Grips’ gleeful cruelty, but he had never witnessed it with his own eyes. After a moment, he decided the rumors didn’t do it justice.

 

Not wanting to stay on the receiving end of his murderous glare, the Kleinhammer quickly shut up, bowed, and waited for Sinclair to start walking.

 

Before getting too far from the town square, Sinclair quietly glanced back and caught the sight of Kromer placing her hand over Guido’s shoulder.

 

⚒

 

The first time Sinclair had sex with Kromer was in the comfort of her room, a fateful evening just in the middle of the school year.

 

Back then, they had fallen into some sort of unspoken routine. Kromer would invite him over after class, at first with persuasive words about the advantages of studying together, but before long it only took a single, subtle inclination of Kromer’s head, a complicit grin, for Sinclair to trip over himself following her close behind.

 

His heart had felt like a small bird beating its wings erratically every time one of his classmates looked his way. Did they know? Could they tell the nature of their relationship just by how close he stood next to Kromer? The thought frightened Sinclair, and yet there was something alluring about it too.

 

If Sinclair was honest with himself, as he rarely was, he would admit there were times when he wanted to be discovered holding Kromer’s waist, their lips locked together as they hid themselves under the shade of one of their school’s staircases.

 

“So you do have a rebellious side to you, Emil Sinclair. Who would have thought!”

 

He remembered tightening his grip around her in retaliation for her teasing, but the action only seemed to make Kromer laugh harder. He silenced those sounds with a kiss, because despite the temptations, it was against his better judgement to be caught skipping class in favor of Kromer’s company.

 

But after being done with all of their academic obligations for the day, they could finally retreat to Kromer’s peaceful home. Her parents, for some unexplained reason, never there.

 

“Please excuse me…”

 

It was a little shameful, but Sinclair found himself only being able to wholly relax there. He didn’t know when that comfort had begun to seep under his uneasiness, or when he had started to drop his defenses around her, but at some point, Sinclair’s first friend became a little more than that.

 

“No need to be so formal~ Come in, come in!”

 

Kromer's residence was quaint, humble compared to the kinds of luxuries he was well accustomed to, and –he had noticed after a couple of visits– it always seemed to be in some state of disarray. Unwashed dishes pilling up in the sink, the remains of breakfast over the table, sometimes even pieces of clothing thrown carelessly over the couch. Probably the consequences of Kromer being its only inhabitant.

 

It was a stark contrast to Sinclair’s home, clean to an almost clinical degree.

 

Despite that, there were two things that had kept him coming back almost daily for the last couple of weeks. So often that his sister had started questioning him about unnamed girlfriends. That was not the case, he swore, he just needed the peace and quiet of the school’s library to study for his upcoming exams. He sometimes required the feedback from his peers, that was all. A change of air helped him focus.

 

He liked to think his mother would have smiled, if she could (if her prosthetic body allowed her to), endeared to his dedication towards his studies.

 

“Our earnest and dutiful Emil…”

 

One of the reasons was that the place lacked the oppressive atmosphere of the Sinclair family home. His discomfort and nervousness had shifted as time went by, as the impending day of his procedure came closer, slowly becoming something akin to a quiet outrage. Resentment, even, he discovered with no small shock when his father boasted about Sinclair’s surgery in front of some work colleagues that had stayed over for dinner. Nobody at the dining table but Sinclair still required something as basic as food to function, and yet they sat there, observing him like some kind of oddity from the past, discussing the best ways in which to cut his body open.

 

His father had dared to celebrate, even allowed himself a dose of vanity, and Sinclair had only been able to clutch the fabric of his pants under the tablecloth, uselessly trying to swallow the bile rising up his throat.

 

There was none of that unbearable pressure at Kromer’s home. He didn’t have to be afraid of finally snapping and saying things he would come to regret.

 

But Sinclair knew he couldn’t run away from his family forever. Graduation was rapidly approaching, and with that his childhood’s end. No, more importantly than that, what would come to an end was—

 

“You can leave your backpack wherever!” Kromer made a small gesture with one of her hands as she walked towards her kitchen, probably looking for something for them to drink. “Wait for me in my room.”

 

The other reason he kept coming back was, well… Kromer herself.

 

Even when their evenings didn’t escalate into something more intimate, and Kromer contented herself with studying together and casually brushing her hands with his (more for the sake of his own comfort rather than a lack of desire on her part, Sinclair suspected), that alone was enough to clear his head of any and all worries.

 

Everything else seemed so insignificant in Kromer’s presence. She had a strange energy to her, one which commanded the attention of everyone in the room. At first, Sinclair had been intimidated by it, afraid as most people were, but under Kromer’s unrelenting attention he discovered he wasn’t like most people after all. At least, that was what she always told him.

 

“You are destinated for something far greater than this mundane life, I can tell just by looking at you.” The insinuation was ridiculous, she must have been mocking him. But when Sinclair lifted his gaze, he found her smiling so softly, uncharacteristically so. If he had to put a name to that mysterious glint in her eyes, he would have called it devotion.

 

Perhaps that was when his feelings of insecure, lukewarm friendship for her began to turn into something else.

 

“I only had some black tea left, hope that’s alright! Going grocery shopping is such a chore…”

 

“Y-Yeah, that’s… perfectly okay.”

 

Whatever they ate or drank wasn’t really important and they both knew it, it was just part of their little ritual. She had developed a taste for dragging out the preamble, making Sinclair ask for it.

 

“What is it?” After quickly putting the tray on her hands aside, Kromer wasted no time sitting next to him. On her bed. Sinclair flinched, instantly wanting to put some respectable distance between them when he felt their clothed thighs touch. “Don’t tell me you are still nervous about spending some alone time together. I can’t even remember how many times we’ve—!”

 

He covered her mouth with the palm of his hand, feeling her smile against his skin almost instantly.

 

“Ah, sorry, that was— I mean, I’m not! I’m not nervous…” He was. The awkwardness of his posture betrayed him. “I guess I’m just… on edge. There’s been a lot on my mind lately…”

 

“Hmmm…” Kromer hummed, removing the hand over her lips but not letting go, even after Sinclair tried to free himself from her grasp. “About…?”

 

She massaged his palm with both of her thumbs, making Sinclair involuntarily lean into her touch. His shoulders relaxed.

 

“Just, everything?” A self-deprecating laugh escaped him. “My family, the future, and… You know.” Yes, Kromer knew what was left unsaid in his words. “No matter what, I’m never able to fight anything. Things just happen to me, and I’m supposed to accept them. Endure them. Isn’t that terribly unfair?”

 

Choosing to be with Kromer was akin to the only sliver of control he had left over his life.

 

Only the time I spend with you seems to make sense.

 

“Sorry, you didn’t invite me over to hear me complain.”

 

As quickly as his anger had surfaced, he deflated, conscious of bothering Kromer with his problems. Surely she must have thought less of him for being unable to stand up for himself.

 

“Ah, my poor Sinclair… Let me hold you for a bit.” Without allowing him the time to deny her, Kromer dragged his body along with hers, until they both were lying down on her bed, just inches apart from each other. Not satisfied with just that, her hands reached for his nape, hugging him until he came to rest over her welcoming chest.

 

Sinclair sank into the embrace offered to him without putting much resistance.

 

It was always like that. A single touch, a simple act of sympathy, made him unravel.

 

“This is what you have been needing, isn’t that right?”

 

Human contact, the kind he couldn’t get anywhere else but between Kromer’s arms.

 

His cheeks burned, but he didn’t refute her. They were well past that point, even if Sinclair remained as inexorably insecure as the first time Kromer had approached him.

 

“Isn’t it lonely? Being deprived of this kind of touch at home.”

 

Yes. He wanted to answer. That’s why, slowly but surely, he had stopped seeing that place as a home, as his home. There was an unbridgeable gap separating Sinclair from his family. Even if he was the only one aware of it, undoubtedly it was there. A gap that he was too cowardly to try to amend.

 

It was so much easier to just indulge in Kromer’s sweet commiseration than confronting them. After all, the only thing he would find back there was insurmountable isolation. He could no longer see the world they lived in, and so that gap, that longing demanded to be filled with something. Perhaps, he thought, that something could be…

 

For a few seconds, they lay there, partially illuminated by the afternoon light that came through Kromer’s window, just breathing together.

 

His companion didn’t seem to mind the lack of a vocal answer. Kromer could always read him like an open book, and the way in which he responded to her words, subtly tightening his grip on her shirt, was as good as an answer for her. Yes, it was lonely. Yes, it was miserable at times. Just when had his world turned upside down? Was it after his sister’s procedure, two years ago? Or had it been when his father announced to the family over breakfast that Sinclair would soon join them?

 

"Isn’t that just wonderful, Emil? Aren’t you excited?"

 

"We had originally planned it as a birthday gift, but by then you’ll be busy with your college applications, so I thought it would be best to push the date forward."

 

"No, no, that’s not how it happened! Okay, listen, don’t get upset at me, but I could tell you were feeling a little left out, so I asked Dad about it and he said—"

 

Yes, it was great. He was just a little shocked, not expecting it so soon. Ah, his sister was always overthinking things, he was fine!

 

Afterward, everything was a blur. He remembered forcing himself to smile, the uncomfortable sensation of cold sweat making his shirt cling to his back, and breaking down the moment he saw Kromer at school.

 

“Mmhm…” He closed his eyes, trying to take a deep breath. Kromer had started wearing perfume lately. It was nice.

 

“I understand. I felt the same way when my mother came back as a stranger.”

 

She had alluded to it a couple of times, but Sinclair never tried to drag more information out of Kromer than what she was willing to share with him. It was an all too common story, so he didn’t need her to dwell on the painful details. The allure of prosthetics had proven to be impossible to escape for most people, upset about human foibles. It was no exaggeration to say that the technology permeated almost every aspect of their everyday lives, most likely by design. 

 

If the company you worked at was wealthy enough, as it wasn’t rare in Kalf, the procedures were offered as incentives for employees that performed exceptionally well. For young teenagers, the dream of getting prosthetics was seen as a rite of passage into adulthood. A graduation gift, for those that could afford it. And those who couldn't, tirelessly worked for it for a couple of years. That’s when your real life begins. Everything that came before was only in preparation for abandoning the crude limitations of the human body. A time not worth remembering, like an extended infancy.

 

‘You. Only better’, ‘Get the body of your dreams’, ‘The best decision I’ve ever made!’. The booklets advertising the range of prestigious private clinics his father had left inside his room seemed to mock him.

 

“Your mother and I think it would be best if you went with the same surgeon who treated us. But don’t feel too pressured, there’s still plenty of time to think things over.” He had placed a heavy hand over Sinclair’s shoulder, as if that empty gesture devoid of any warmth could offer him any reassurance.

 

“The decision is yours to make.”

 

Was it really?

 

“Sinclair.” She called, intertwining her legs with his. “I’m tired of talking about this. Let’s not spend our time together discussing unpleasant topics.” That was a first for Kromer, who never missed the chance to ramble about their shared distaste for prosthetics. They were partners, she had said. Together, drifting away in the same boat.

 

“Instead, here is a better idea. I’ll help you take your mind off everything else. Get rid of that edge!”

 

Sinclair was well accustomed to that part by now. In fact, he had been looking forward to it all day. But despite his dormant excitement, or maybe just because of it, his cheeks started to heat up. Hopefully Kromer couldn’t feel it through her clothes.

 

“Help me how…?”

 

His question, of course, was also part of their routine. Merely a formality at that point, part of the performance, but one that they both enjoyed. Though you’d never be able to pry that admission out of Sinclair.

 

“Eh~ I wonder, I wonder.”

 

Shyly, Sinclair looked upwards, angling his head just right for Kromer to kiss him.

 

But instead of doing so, Kromer wore a theatrically pensive expression, holding her chin with the hand that wasn’t occupied caressing the back of his head. Up to no good, as always. She’ll ask something strange of him yet again, like biting his fingers, or kissing with their eyes wide open.

 

“We’ve been doing this kind of thing for a couple of months.”

 

“…Yes?”

 

A familiar sense of apprehension settled inside his stomach. Had Kromer grown tired of their intimacy already? Doubt came to him much more easily than confidence, and so, those few words were enough to have Sinclair jumping to conclusions about his own painful inadequacy.

 

He wasn’t ready to let go of the tender sensation of her cheek, or the contradictory hunger and gentleness of her lips. Few things remained in Sinclair’s life that hadn’t slipped through his fingers, and he was certain he wouldn’t be able to endure losing that unnamed connection that was his and only his. Even if he couldn’t fully understand it, that much he knew.

 

“So naturally, I’ve been waiting for you to take the next step. Most men would have done it ages ago.”

 

But just when he could feel the telltale signs of his eyes beginning to tear up, Kromer said something incredible.

 

“I’m talking about sleeping together. With how close we have gotten, I was sure you would be at least a little bit into the idea.”

 

The boldness with which she was able to say those things was honestly frightening.

 

“W-What? K-Kromer, can you repeat what you just said… That’s funny, for a second it sounded like—”

 

“So you aren’t curious? Because the guys from our class talk about it all the time~ They even got me thinking about it!”

 

Sinclair was too busy trying to not choke on his own spit to answer in any understandable way.

 

She heard them?!

 

They were teenage boys on the cusp of adulthood, so of course, the topic of intimacy came up in conversation pretty often. More often than Sinclair was comfortable with. But he would always just smile, laughing here and there in agreement with whatever unsavory comment his classmates made. All in order to not feel excluded from their little group. Or worse, make a fool of himself, looking like a child or a prude.

 

After those clandestine conversations, a burning sense of shame would fill his stomach for the rest of the day.

 

“Y-You thought about it?”

 

“From time to time! But hey, if you aren’t interested in trying it out— Well, personally I think it would be kind of a shame, with your procedure coming up…” She shifted her gaze towards the ceiling, and her teasing grin faltered. “We won’t be able to do that kind of thing anymore. You know that, don’t you?”

 

He did. He had thought about it extensively, in fact.

 

“And you wanted to— with… me.”

 

“What, were you expecting me to ask any other guy?”

 

Sinclair’s head was spinning.

 

“No, that’s not…”

 

Yes, in truth, Sinclair may have thought about the prospect of crossing that boundary way more often than he was willing to admit. With her, of course. Who else was there?

 

In one of those guilty fantasies he kept close to his chest, they both came home late at night, perhaps back from a date, looking just a little bit older, wiser. He was noticeably taller, but Kromer still towered over him. He wasn’t as delusional as to think that fact would ever change.

 

He would help Kromer take off her coat by the entrance, slightly dampened by the snow or the rain. Those details didn’t matter. Kromer would then look back at him softly, with that look she got in her eyes every so often.

 

“Sinclair…”

 

It wouldn’t be anything unusual. Their bodies would meet comfortably with one another, accustomed to that closeness. A regular affair, but not because of that any less exciting. They would fumble blindly towards their room, maybe Sinclair would struggle opening the door between Kromer’s kisses, or he would hit one of his feet with the night table, and Kromer would laugh happily, pecking one of his cheeks.

 

“Sinclair.”

 

“H-Huh?”

 

Kromer, the Kromer resting besides him and not the one from his daydreams, arched an eyebrow. She didn’t look upset by his little distraction. Her expression was the exact opposite of Sinclair’s, unnervingly calm.

 

“Should I ask another guy?”

 

He knew his fantasies were impossible to begin with. Or rather, Sinclair should have known that. There was no label that defined the precarious relationship between them, but it certainly wasn’t a romantic one. Not one of any normal kind, at the very least. Kromer offered him comfort, companionship, a warmth he shamefully craved, and in return he offered Kromer…

 

Huh. What did he even have to offer to Kromer?

 

A means to satiate her juvenile curiosity? The thought was upsetting, for some reason, even though it shouldn’t have been.

 

But it was irrational to lose his mind over those matters. In just a couple of months, everything would come to an end. Kromer would leave Kalf, having expressed her intention of working for a big corporation, not joining Sinclair in college. It was only natural, these things didn’t last, they couldn’t stay glued to one another forever. Sinclair was sure she would quickly make a name for herself. Despite her easygoing, unbothered attitude, he knew she was someone rather exceptional. It only made sense. And then, after some respectable time had passed, or maybe not that long, Kromer would find a partner much better suited for her. Confident, reliable, someone who didn’t meet her in secret to exchange furtive kisses, someone with a human body, unlike Sinclair, who would soon—

 

“No.” The idea of any other person sharing the type of connection with Kromer that should be his and his only was too unbearable to keep entertaining. “Don’t— You don’t need to do that.”

 

She was right, Sinclair did want to know about touching and being held. Until that moment, he thought of himself as content with whatever Kromer decided to give him, but it looked like he was greedier than that. And it was Kromer who was offering him more, and she was offering it to him, not anyone else. There was no need for anyone else.

 

He could at least have that one single time if he was bound to lose the body able to enjoy it. Right? It wasn’t an unforgivable desire, was it?

 

“I, too…” His trembling palm caressed the familiar curve of Kromer’s waist, unsure if he was allowed to do so. She didn’t react, so the touch must not have been entirely unwelcome. “I would also like…”

 

There were many ways to say what Sinclair wanted to say, and yet none of them came to him. Much to his own frustration, he still remained a coward, even when courage mattered the most.

 

Not being able to say much more, he just nodded, at the very least managing to hold Kromer’s gaze.

 

Finally, Kromer’s frozen expression changed, and Sinclair felt he could breathe again.

 

“I was only teasing you a bit, but you reacted so strongly! You are a riot, Sinclair. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

 

Her laugh was a little cruel, but foolishly he did not mind it. Not when Kromer’s hands settled comfortably around his lower back, pulling him closer to her.

 

“Don’t get mad at me.” She whispered close to his lips, and now the mood had properly shifted to the usual tingling tension between them, only this time it was charged with something more intense. “Girls like to know they are wanted.”

 

Sinclair frowned, cheeks once again burning in embarrassment, but he let himself melt into her body, settling his weight fully against her. He felt incredibly out of his element. Kissing had taken him long enough to master. But if he let Kromer take the reins of this too, much like he had let her teach him every step of kissing and holding one another, then it would probably turn out okay. Or more than okay.

 

And finally, Kromer kissed him, her lips noticeably gentler than usual, perhaps accommodating to his nervous desire. But she was pleased; he could tell from the way in which she smiled into the kiss. It was a really big smile, one of those that made her lips shake unintentionally, despite her best efforts at composure –though perhaps, not very great efforts–. That alone made him feel something turn sharply within his chest.

 

He sighed, shuddering when Kromer’s hands traveled down until they reached the back of his thighs, slowly caressing the area as if testing the waters. His body’s knee-jerk reaction was to rut against her, his hips buckling before Sinclair could stop them. In answer, that barely-there touch became a firm grip, keeping him in place.

 

“Do you like that? Being touched here.”

 

He did. Heat coiled inside his stomach, that recurrent and addictive shame and excitement he had come to learn. Sinclair wanted her hands to stay on him like that, not minding the blunt fingernails pressing against his flesh.

 

“Hmmm? Sinclair?”

 

Another thing he had discovered over the course of their time together was how much it pleased him to hear Kromer say his name. She always sounded so happy calling out for him, cheeks slightly dusted with pink, often adding a term of endearment that would make his foolish heart lose its tempo.

 

Now, muttered after a kiss, it sounded even sweeter. He wondered if there were even more ways in which Kromer could say it, still waiting to be discovered by him.

 

“I… Yes, Kromer.”

 

She kissed him again, without warning, without needing a warning. Sinclair tried to answer to her intensity, following the rhythm of her lips, shifting his hips so they could hold each other more easily. Kromer moaned, a new, strangled sound that he swallowed as they kissed. Her eyes opened, genuinely taken aback by her own reaction. Sinclair had done something right.

 

He tentatively thrust forward.

 

This time, Kromer didn’t have a way to conceal her pleasure.

 

“Sinclair…” She keened, chest rising and falling heavily. “And here I thought that you might need…” Her fingers trembled, clinging to the back of his legs harshly. “That you might need guidance, or more time. But no, I think you’ll be just fine…”

 

The praise clouded his head a little, prompting him to keep rutting against her, even if it was mortifying to feel the growing bulge between his legs. Kromer didn’t seem to share his inhibitions, now sliding her hands under his shirt, caressing his back, and following along the ridges of his spine until she reached his shoulder blades.

 

She parted her legs, giving Sinclair ample space to move more comfortably. Kromer had been right, he thought between erratic, short thrusts. Perhaps humans were made just to indulge in each other’s touch. If not, then why did they fit so perfectly pressed together? Why did it feel so wonderful to nuzzle his head against Kromer’s neck while she whispered close to his ear?

 

He should have felt more ashamed than he was. Of lying to his family, of his ungratefulness, of giving in to his unseemly desires. But he only felt guilty about his lack of shame.

 

Mindlessly, one of his hands reached for the back of Kromer’s head, tugging until her hair came undone. It was a little longer than he had expected it to be, making her look uncharacteristically girly.

 

She was beautiful.

 

Whatever fear that had remained within him dwindled into excitement. Sinclair embraced her once again, pressing his chest flush against her own, happy to hear her pant. The bed made a creaking sound after a particularly vicious thrust of his hips.

 

“Sinclair— That’s… quite enough of that.” Kromer pushed his shoulders in an effort to put some small distance between them. She looked completely disheveled, her face flushed and shirt clinging to all the wrong places, but Sinclair was sure his own appearance was not much better.

 

“H-Huh? But I thought…”

 

The panicked tone of his voice seemed to satisfy her, as Kromer smiled wickedly before continuing.

 

“If we keep this up you’ll finish way too quickly. And this is not where I want it, or how I want it…” Her right hand traveled up her inner thigh ever so slowly, making sure Sinclair’s eyes were following each one of her subtle movements.

 

“You should only finish inside of me”, she said, pressing two of her fingertips against her clothed crotch.

 

Forgetting the instinctual confidence he had gained, Sinclair swallowed harshly, one of his arms almost giving out. Regardless of his parents bashfully dancing around the subject every time it came up, or their teachers’ pious lectures on abstinence and chastity, he knew the gist of what intimacy entailed. But even if the idea of disregarding protection had crossed Sinclair’s mind in more than one of those late-night fantasies, he had never imagined she would fulfill his unspoken desire.

 

Kromer giggled, effortlessly turning their positions around, as if she had just indulged in Sinclair’s desire for brief dominance.

 

“You are so precious, Sinclair. Makes me want to…” Her words trailed off, and then she shook her head, the silver strands falling over her shoulders as Kromer sat on his groin. “There’ll be other times when we can do a little more. This type of thing is all about knowing when to keep your control and when to release.”

 

Sinclair groaned, getting accustomed to the new sight of Kromer straddling him. For a second, he felt helpless, but not in that miserable way he was so used to. Rather, lying there under her adoring gaze, Sinclair felt like he could surrender to any and all of her wishes. No matter how selfish or unreasonable, there was no way he could deny her.

 

With more patience than her own excitement should have allowed her to, Kromer got rid of her pants and vest, carelessly throwing them on the floor. She visibly enjoyed doing it slowly, all under Sinclair’s watchful eyes, which opened a little wider with each inch of naked flesh that was revealed to him. How cute, he heard her mumble.

 

“Want to help me undress?”

 

He sputtered something incomprehensible at the sudden offer, but Kromer took it as a positive reaction. She brought both of his hands towards her chest, hinting at Sinclair to start undoing the buttons of her school shirt.

 

After making his way through a couple of them with some trouble -because no matter how much he tried to will his hands into obeying him, they would not stop trembling-, the shirt slipped down her shoulders and Kromer’s chest came into full view. She was wearing a white lace bra, too mature and delicate for it not to have been a deliberate choice on her part. The thought of Kromer carefully choosing what to wear for him sent a wave of heated desire across his body.

 

“Do you like it? Ah, but sadly we’ll have to take it off too.” His hands, guided by Kromer’s hands, clumsily reached for the clasp on her back. It took some awkward maneuvering, and Kromer laughed through the whole process, but the garment came undone at last.

 

“At least I can be certain you have never done that before.”

 

Not like she had any doubts to begin with.

 

Perhaps being done with his torture, or taking pity on him, she finally removed the bra from her body.

 

Then, as if apologizing for her teasing, she took Sinclair’s right hand, bringing it to caress her naked chest. He gently groped the soft flesh of her breast, entranced by the way in which it perfectly fit on his cupped hand. Kromer rewarded his initiative with a quiet whimper, arching her back when Sinclair rubbed one of her perky nipples with his thumb.

 

Yes, he thought, Kromer had definitely been right. He had needed to answer this longing to touch and to be touched. How grateful he was to feel her shivering, aching, wanting, erasing everything else in the world. In that moment, the entire universe was reduced to just a small bedroom and the two people in it.

 

“K-Kromer, can I…? I need to…”

 

His fingers grazed the lacy fabric of her panties, beginning to tug them down.

 

There was a predatory glint in Kromer’s eyes. It reminded Sinclair of how he used to tremble in her presence back when they had first met. How ridiculous that fear seemed now.

 

Without saying a single word, she lifted her hips, just enough for Sinclair to help her out of the last piece of clothing that still hid some of her body. The fabric was soaked, he noticed, much more embarrassed than her about it. Actually, Kromer didn’t seem ashamed in the slightest as she discarded the underwear next to the rest of her clothes.

 

Despite being completely bare while Sinclair remained dressed, she wasn’t flustered. Her cheeks were colored in an attractive blush when she sat down, dampening his pants with her wetness, but if anything, she looked proud of herself.  

 

“I lied, Sinclair.” She admitted, smearing more of her essence with the gentle swaying of her hips. “I didn’t think about this just a little. You have no idea, for how long I’ve—” Quickly, Kromer unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants down before they got too stained, perhaps in consideration of how Sinclair would have to go back home wearing his uniform. His underwear soon followed, finally revealing his length.

 

“Huh, it’s bigger than I had imagined.”

 

“Kromer!!”

 

Muffling a laugh with some rather poor effort, Kromer brought her hand down, lightly stroking his member in preparation for what was to come.

 

It only took a couple of touches for Sinclair to start feeling like he would come undone. He choked out a gasp, making her hand tighten around the base of his member as a silent warning. Not here, not just yet.

 

Kromer shifted her hips while guiding him between her legs, pressing his tip against her suggestive heat. Sinclair could tell she was about to say something else, her mouth already half open, but before he knew it, his hips were lunging forward, opening her with a swift motion.  

 

“A-Ah—!” Sinclair couldn’t distinguish if she was moaning in pain or pleasure, or perhaps a mix of the two. He tried to pull out a couple of inches, having the sense to be worried about her even if his body was screaming to keep pushing himself even further in, but the action only made Kromer clench tighter around him.

 

“You are not going anywhere, Emil Sinclair.” Maybe the words should have ringed a bell of alarm, but instead he nodded profusely, too far gone to disagree with Kromer. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to. “You are mine.”

 

Trembling and obedient, he watched her eat him whole.

 

“Kromer…” Sinclair moaned softly, entranced by the sight of Kromer’s body welcoming him so easily, so naturally. He couldn’t stop looking, feeling his reason abandoning him with each tentative roll of her hips. There was an insistent sense of wrongness in the back of his mind, because feeling such an encompassing pleasure shouldn’t be allowed, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

 

“Aren’t you mine, Sinclair?” Up until that moment, she had remained suspiciously nonchalant about the whole thing. Maybe she had wanted to be an anchor for Sinclair, despite her own inexperience. But whatever self-restraint Kromer had been fighting to maintain quickly disappeared when, after a harsh movement, Sinclair entered her all the way in.

 

It felt so good, too good. He didn’t deserve to feel so good, and yet he wanted to bring Kromer’s body close to him and never let her go.

 

“C’mon, say that you are mine, Sinclair! That you need me just like I need you…”

 

Hearing her sound so desperate did something strange to Sinclair’s heart. Kromer wanted him. Kromer needed him. She had been wanting this to happen between them for a long time. The thought alone was intoxicating.

 

“I’m— Yes, Kromer. I’m yours.” The admission flew from his mouth before he could stop it. But it felt right to say so, to put those feelings into words. “I need this. I need y-you…”

 

It felt even better when Kromer clamped around him, making his back arch involuntarily. Unlike Sinclair, she didn’t attempt to swallow her voice, breathing deeply and throwing her head back in unmasked pleasure. As if Sinclair had satisfied her more with those words than answering to the needy sways of her body.

 

There was another confession stuck at the back of his throat. That one would have to wait.

 

Then, slouching forward, her eyes brimming with mirth met his gaze. She smiled mischievously, draping him in her warmth with just one look.

 

“I’m so happy! I knew— If there was someone that could understand, I knew it would be you…”

 

Sinclair had wanted to answer in kind. Because he, too, felt the happiest and most understood then, enjoying heavy waves of bliss traveling down his body and the sound of the bed rocking. But before he could struggle trying to put a name to that feeling, a shaking hand came to rest on his chest, hovering just over his heart. That subtle touch was enough to alter its pace with her own rhythm.

 

After a moment, content with the rapid beat against her fingertips, Kromer spoke once more.

 

“Fleshly delights are lewd distractions from the contemplation of higher matters.” It was a quote from a sermon they have both heard once upon a time, repeated unkindly, her tone sarcastic. “The pleasures of the flesh are vulgar and unrefined— Was that how it went, Sinclair?” She laughed, gracing him with another roll of her hips.

 

“Ha, what could those fools know about anything… About—” Another sharp thrust. “this…” The word came out as a dragged-out moan.

 

“K-Kromer…!”

 

It was way too much and yet far too little. Almost instinctively, his hands settled down on her hips, putting a brief end to the sweet torture she was subjecting him to. Then, he thrust upwards, pushing himself even further in.

 

Her silver eyes narrowed, pleased by him actively reciprocating her touch. She clasped around him, cruelly, sweetly, all the while not taking her eyes off his.

 

“But I knew you would understand, Sinclair…” Her chest raised heavily as she spoke his name, over and over, devoted, longing, wanting. “Sinclair, Sinclair, Sinclair…”

 

Nobody had ever looked at him as intensely as she had. Kromer gazed at him with all her being, with a long, deliberate, adoring gaze that seemed to go on forever.

 

“This…” Her breath hitched when Sinclair returned her desperate thrusts. “is the pinnacle of the human experience. Sinclair—! Do you see how perfectly we fit together? As if our bodies were carved for one another. And perhaps they were…”

 

He wondered how Kromer could stay as eloquent as she was when Sinclair could barely manage to repeat her name over and over in prayer. Still, her words carried a certain weight to them, and so he made sure to remember them. At the moment, they seemed like the most truthful confession.

 

“They were…” Sinclair echoed instantly, mind lost and hazy as he felt his climax approaching. “Kromer, I’m going to— Let me pull out…” He tried to lift her by the hips, fighting the urge to bring her even closer. His weak efforts didn’t carry him very far. Looking at where their bodies joined together, blood rushed to his head, imagining how it would feel to reach completion while deep in her recesses. The sounds of their movements were obscene enough, stimulating him in ways he didn’t think possible.

 

Kromer laughed at his enraptured expression, sounding strangely saccharine.

 

“I already told you how I wanted it. There’s no need to hold yourself back.”

 

He poured himself into her. There were no calculations, no insincere performances, no holding back. There were only gentle, sharp, clenched teeth, and there were silver eyes thrown wide open to him. Sinclair went inside, deeper and deeper, at first with the nervous consideration of someone who didn’t know of those types of guilty indulgences, but then—

 

“Sinclair…” Having perhaps exhausted her strength, Kromer came close, leaning on his shoulder. At that moment, they were one. Sinclair knew it with every nerve, with every hair, with every sweet and almost painful beat of his heart.

 

Sliding downwards, embracing him with her whole body, Kromer moaned his name and he felt delirious. He was drowning beneath their clasped fingers.

 

What came next was purely instinctual. Gripping Kromer’s hips hard enough that they would surely bruise the morning after, he thrust roughly and unrelentingly into her. Now it was Kromer who melted against his body, who surrendered herself to him fully, welcoming everything Sinclair wanted to give her.

 

“We are of the flesh, and we must turn with faith towards that truth. It’s in these bodies that we live, and love, and will eventually die.”

 

The words swirled inside his head, mixed with her sharp breaths and sweet, honest praises. He listened to every single sound that came out of her mouth, that he dragged out of her, knowing they would come back to haunt him. There was no way he could ever forget the maddening sensation of Kromer’s fangs grazing his pulse, hesitating for just a second before biting down.

 

She came first, tightening painfully around Sinclair’s length, which in turn triggered his own orgasm almost instantly. He had wanted to last a little longer, savor that impossible moment that perhaps he could never experience again, but Kromer’s blissful expression and the pleasant warmth of her release were enough to make Sinclair lose his grip on his self-control. Fulfilling her wishes and his own base desires, he reached completion buried inside her as deeply as he could, filling her to the brim.

 

Kromer lifted her head, just enough so she could look straight into Sinclair’s glassy eyes while keeping their torsos pressed together. With some trouble focusing his gaze, he noticed there were small traces of blood painting her mouth. As if catching his growing need for kissing her, Kromer licked her lips clean, the action unfairly erotic.

 

A satisfied sigh escaped her before brushing her lips over Sinclair’s sweaty neck. The small contact made him shudder.

 

“Your heartbeat in my ribs and mine in yours…” Kromer whispered, so quietly he could barely make out the words. “Listen, how your heart pounds inside me.”

 

Lying over Kromer’s bosom while silently gazing at her content expression, Sinclair couldn’t quite understand what had happened. But as he ran through the previous few hours in his mind, the reality of what they had done together settled over his well-spent body. And strangely, no intrusive thoughts about the future assaulted him, nor did any of his stubborn doubts about the nature of his ambiguous relationship with Kromer come back to claw at the back of his mind. Sinclair closed his eyes, allowing himself a brief moment of sleep, thinking of nothing other than the girl between his arms.

 

That night, he went home in a daze, his skin still tingling pleasantly under the ghost of Kromer’s touch.

 

 

 

 

 

It was as if a dam had broken within Sinclair.

 

There must be… something wrong with my body.

 

Every time he was left alone with his thoughts, his mind would wander back to Kromer’s room, as if he was still there with her, sharing sweetness and warmth. The soft sensation of the bedsheets against his naked back, the evening light slipping between the curtains, the newfound pleasure of Kromer grinding her hips into his. He could remember it all.

 

He would come home, on the days he didn’t spend with her, which became few and far between, rushing towards his room. Then, he would lock his door, the possibility of being surprised by someone while doing such shameful acts reminding him to at least have that small precaution.

 

Crawling into bed, he slid his hand under his shorts and underwear, trying to imitate her movements. He thrust into his own grip, then ran his hand up and down the underside of his length, teasing himself as she had done. Overwhelmed, feeling near the edge with just a couple of strokes, and yet ultimately unsatisfied.  

 

Up until that point, Sinclair had thought he knew himself fairly well. After all, who could know the workings of his body better than himself?

 

Clearly he had been mistaken.

 

“Kromer… Kromer—!”

 

His feverish desire wouldn’t subdue. And the relief his palm could offer him, it wasn’t enough. Imagination couldn’t replace her. Kromer had dug up that something within him, as if she had always possessed the knowledge of how to touch him.

 

He sensed her long legs around him, and closing his eyes, he could envision her neck and trembling eyelashes. It was tortuous, blissful, he was going to suffocate. God, he thought, I’m burning. I’m ready to love her again.

 

“This is what we are made for, Sinclair. Don’t forget it. Engrave this sensation into your very core.”

 

That was the beginning of Emil Sinclair’s fall.

 

 

 

 

 

He wanted to vomit.

 

Sinclair’s father had lied. He had told him, on one of the many occasions when he explained the virtues of their artificial bodies, that he would never get hurt or see his own blood ever again. If that was the case, then what was spilling between the cracks of their parquet flooring, slowly mixing with thick oil?

 

It really was a pungent, foul smell. He wondered how anyone could endure having those fluids flowing through their veins. Was a human body so nauseating once it was torn apart? Did any body pierced with holes burn in the same way, with fuel gushing from the mouth?

 

Behind him, someone choked a surprised gasp. Sinclair knew that sound from somewhere.

  

“S-Sinclair…? You…”

 

A crack. And then, two weights falling to the floor.

 

Smalls steps approached him, but Sinclair had no desire to turn around. Or rather, he couldn’t bring himself to do it, his eyes caught up in the flickers of light that illuminated the otherwise unlit corridor. But it did not matter. He knew of those steps, confident as they came closer, and he knew of those arms, softly embracing his waist.

 

“I can’t believe it. You— There’s just no way…”

 

It was after Kromer had whispered it against his throat, so quietly he had doubted his ears, that somewhere deep inside his mind the idea had begun to fester.

 

But perhaps it was just easier to let the blame fall over her shoulders.

 

In truth, it was him who had done it. It was him who had severed them with his own hands. Anything else was only his cowardice talking.

 

But he couldn’t help it. Once he saw it, the body that would soon replace him, unveiled under the doorway, something within him split into two.

 

“K-Kromer…”

 

Kromer cradled him, not unlike she had done in her bedroom, and Sinclair clutched her shirt with trembling hands, similarly as he did back then too.

 

“You really are my Sinclair.”

 

Her voice, which before was just edging on mania, turned into an adoring whisper. She was shaking, not even trying to compose herself, or to contain the glee in her words. A stark contrast to Sinclair’s mute horror.

 

“I…” Those arms wrapped around him as tight as iron bands, and, when Sinclair finally dared to look back, her lips kissed him as if in love. He froze, feeling he could neither flee nor stay, so instead he let her do as she pleased. Wet and ragged, her mouth tasted of his own flesh.

 

When they parted, Sinclair forced himself to speak once more.

 

“It was— because you spoke of it…” Thump, Thump, the sound of his telltale heart. “Because you spoke of it, I couldn’t fight it.”

 

The moment he went for the kill, cold rage guiding his hand, was as if he had stepped outside of himself. That’s what he wanted to believe. The mess of cables, and metal, and blood, and oil, it wasn’t one of his making.  

 

“No.” She shook her head softly, understanding, and the longer strands of hair tickled Sinclair’s neck pleasantly. “This time around, I can’t take too much credit for your growth.”

 

“But you gave me the strength to do it.” A power he shouldn’t have wanted, and yet there he was, refusing to let go of her hand. The two of them together, kneeling on the floor, enveloped by the darkness. “Without you, I could have never…”

 

“Oh, Sinclair…” Kromer whispered, a strange mix of pity and reverence in her voice as her palms came to delicately hold his cheeks. They were wet, she noticed. “What I’m giving you is nothing that belongs to me. It is just yourself. Your eyes blazing with fear, blazing with hope, I’m giving you your own fire. All I do is breathe very gently on your night embers.”

 

“But…” She continued, gently rubbing Sinclair’s tears. Despite it all, he felt relieved to have Kromer holding him. “If you want to blame it on anything else, if that makes the ordeal easier, blame it on your love for me.”

 

Is that what it was? That terror tangled with painful longing, was it… love?

 

She leaned towards him, the intent to kiss clear in her gaze.

 

“Accept this love, Sinclair. Accept the part of me that is you.”

 

 

 

 

⚒

 

Sinclair exhaled heavily as he slumped against the armchair, his exhaustion now finally settling in. Some small droplets of water fell from his hair to the hollow of his collarbone. He hadn’t bothered drying it after taking a brisk shower, just long enough to take care of all the grime and blood from battle.

 

From his seat, placed in front of their bedroom’s window, he could overlook the village gently illuminated by flickers of light and fire. The moon was aloft in the sky, lonely among just a few stars.

 

In all honesty, he couldn’t share Kromer’s appreciation for the sight of skewered bodies. Sinclair was glad of cleansing the City of filth, he took pride in fulfilling his duty, but there was no way he could find a heretic’s body beautiful, even if it was torn apart, as it should be. On the best days, the sight brought him satisfaction or a sense of accomplishment, but there were times when just the smell of their spilled fuel made nausea rise inside his throat. When it got that bad, only the soothing sounds of Kromer’s whistle could calm him down.

 

However, there was something hypnotic about watching the buildings in the distance slowly be consumed by flames. Humanity had always had a fascination with fire, after all.

 

He sighed, again, a part of himself waiting for Kromer to sneak up on him from behind. She would lean over his shoulder and then, he imagined, lick the drops of water that ran down his neck. Perhaps even biting down on his pulse. Sinclair missed it, the suggestive mixing of feelings and touches, of half-hushed pleasures and heart-cracking pain. Their shared intimacies.

 

A familiar heat stirred within him, but quickly he stomped it down. Who knew when Kromer would be back. And, in any case, who knew if she would be willing to answer to that heat.

 

What was there to discuss with Guido that Sinclair couldn’t help her with?

 

The memory of Kromer’s hand –the hand that should always be on him– resting over the Großhammer’s shoulder came forth to the front of his mind, no matter how hard he fought to suppress it. Did Kromer trust him more than she trusted Sinclair? He wasn’t aware of the specifics, but Guido had known her for a long, long time, since before Nagel und Hammer had grown into the unstoppable force they were now. He had known Kromer for much longer than Sinclair. That alone was enough to spark caustic jealousy within his heart.

 

There had to be reason to find him inadequate, undeserving of the honor of being the One Who Grips’ hammer. He just hadn’t figured out what that fatal flaw might be yet.

 

But even if the man had stood beside Kromer for much longer, Sinclair refused to believe Guido knew her better than he did. Only Sinclair had laid bare with Kromer, clinging and caressing, and then falling asleep, only to wake up between her kisses. Only Sinclair had had that privilege, she had said so.

 

That was a fact he held with certainty once.

 

“Then why…”

 

Like any other unloved thing, Sinclair only felt complete when it was under her touch. Her hands that would wrap around him, that would hold him close and guide him to shelter, to comfort, to food. Her precious hands that held and touched and reassured. The touch he so craved.

 

Her touch had left him, but Sinclair still possessed a body that remembered it well. The brief bites on his shoulder, her sweet smell, the slow caress of her fingertips hovering over the dip of his hips.

 

That line of thought was getting him nowhere.

 

He turned his head, sluggish, towards the clock that hung on the wall. It almost hit midnight, three hours since they had parted.

 

The sensible idea would be to go to bed. It looked inviting, freshly made, and for a brief second he was amused by the notion of one of the Kleinhammers preparing it for them while dressed in heavy armor. But despite how his muscles ached for that well-deserved rest, he couldn’t bring himself to move. He wanted to wait for Kromer. It wasn’t as if he would be able to sleep without her anyways.

 

“You are really cruel, Kromer…”

 

His eyes closed, fatigue clinging to him.

 

He remembered, as a young child, finding the image of lovers as people cut in half disturbingly grotesque. It was a bizarre legend that had fascinated many in the past, so much that part of the imagery still persisted to this day, even if most had forgotten its origins. But now Sinclair understood just why so many people found the idea so lucid and true. When Kromer took his hand in hers, their chests rising and falling in sync, overwhelmed after fighting alongside each other for the first time, he felt like the part of himself that had been missing for so long had been finally restored.

 

Back then, after cleansing their hometown of the filth that had contaminated it for so long, he was also reminded of when the two of them had slept together for the first time. The experience hadn’t been all too different from standing next to Kromer on the battlefield. Sinclair’s repressed desires and his anxious need for release, Kromer’s confident guiding hand. In that moment, becoming a complete person.

 

That nameless poet who wrote tales of Gods chopping people in two concluded: each one of us is perpetually hunting for the matching half of ourselves. Sinclair was made aware of what he lacked by meeting Kromer, and in turn, found out what he needed to fully become human. Her.

 

As if reciprocating his unvoiced thoughts, Kromer had then lifted both of their arms together, joyous as he had never seen her before, declaring for all the Hammers to hear:

 

“The two of us, now, stand as one.”

 

Kromer needed him too. He was her key, she said. Nobody had ever needed Sinclair. Not his classmates, they paid him no real mind. Not Max Demian, whose magnetic gaze had turned condemning at some point in time. And definitely not the ones that he had considered his family, who only wanted him to play the role they had prewritten for him. Only Kromer had ever needed him. 

 

That day, back at her small, sheltering bedroom, two lacks had become one.

 

“For we are the One Who Grips.”

 

If Kromer had decided to become one with him, to accept him fully, then she wasn’t allowed to take that away. She didn’t get to take that need away. She belonged to him as much as he belonged to her.

 

That was the only truth he would hold with certainty.

 

After what felt like a tortuous amount of time, but in actuality couldn’t have been more than half an hour, the door behind him creaked open.

 

“Sinclair?”

 

It would be undignified to say that he jumped from his seat despite being on the verge of unconsciousness, but… Well, Sinclair always reacted very strongly to her.

 

“Kromer…” Relief washed over his body. She looked exactly the same, gauntlet still on her left hand, and the rest of her armor still in place. “You are back.”

 

“And you are still awake.” She tilted her head to one side, looking at him with curiosity from top to bottom. “Ha… Your hair is wet, and you are only wearing some pants and a flimsy shirt.”  

 

Even if she was nagging him, Kromer sounded caring to his ears, and when she reached for him with her naked hand, running her fingers through his dampened curls, Sinclair had to swallow the urge to ask whether he was still loved.

 

“You shouldn’t have waited for me.”

 

“But you are happy I did.”

 

“I am?”

 

“You are smiling.”

 

Kromer laughed, an irresistibly carefree sound, and hugged his shoulders. Not wanting the moment to come to an end too soon, he quickly returned her embrace, perhaps twice as tight.

 

“My uniform is dirty.” She tried to reason with him, which was unlike her. “And you just took a shower.”

 

“Then take it off.”

 

Kromer’s eyes widened in surprise and she laughed with her whole chest, bending over for good measure.

 

“When did you learn to speak like—” The sentence got interrupted by her own giggles. “I guess I will.”  

 

He let her go with no small amount of resistance. Well, Sinclair could allow her to that much, as long as she didn’t stray far from his sight. It was okay. That much was okay. Because, inside their room, Kromer wouldn’t escape from him. He wouldn’t have to share her with anyone else. Their intimacy was his and his only.  

 

The armor came off easily under Kromer’s practiced movements. After she sat on the edge of the bed, removing her boots, her head raised sharply, as if just remembering something.

 

“Since you are awake, this is as good a time as any to tell you.”

 

Sinclair blinked, a little embarrassed of getting distracted by the sight of her newly exposed neck.

 

“Y-Yes?”

 

“We’ve discovered the heretics’ getaway route.”

 

Oh. That was certainly not where he was expecting the conversation to go.

 

“You, you did?”

 

“The little pests were using the remnants of some underground tunnels to run away. Probably the leftovers of that fallen Wing, though there were no records of them having any facilities in this area.” Kromer sighed, rolling her shoulders. Even she wasn’t immune to exhaustion. “Then again, they didn’t have any operations in Kalf either. Officially, at the very least.”

 

The memory of what had lurked underneath his old family home brought a bitter taste to Sinclair’s mouth. He had lived in the manor for eighteen years, believing it a place of comfort where nothing would ever bring him harm. But in truth, that hadn’t been the luminous place from Sinclair’s childhood memories. All that time, while he lived in content ignorance, his family had been hiding the real nature of his father’s business under the rug. If Sinclair regretted one thing was not gutting more truths out of the man before he passed.

 

Well, he hadn’t been quite himself at the time.

 

“That’s fantastic…” And he meant it, looking at her with full devotion. Their plans being slightly thwarted must have vexed Kromer quite a bit, but naturally, she was able to retaliate instantly. As expected of her.

                                                                                                                   

Kromer nodded, her hands stilling over the first buttons of her shirt. “It’ll be more troublesome than we had anticipated, but hunting them down will be easy knowing where they are crawling around. A little bit time-consuming…” She smiled, pleased when Sinclair’s hand settled on her knee. “We can have some fun with them, to make it worth our while~”.

 

Leaning into her, Sinclair grunted in agreement, overjoyed by the tender sensation of his cheek against her partially naked shoulder. The tension in his frame left him, relaxing with each second Kromer allowed him to stay close to her.

 

How did he endure a whole day away from her without losing his mind?

 

“I’m glad my Sinclair agrees! We can sort these matters in the morning, but I’m thinking of leaving you… Let’s see, two Mittlehammer squadrons should be enough. You can take most of the Kleinhammers too, it’ll be a good experience for the rookies.”

 

“Eh?” Sinclair raised his head just enough to look into Kromer’s eyes, noticing how he had gotten part of her shirt wet. She didn’t seem to mind it. “I think I don’t quite follow…”

 

She also didn’t seem to mind the clear confusion dripping from his voice. “I won’t risk having those heretics slip through our fingers again.” Despite her gentle gaze, she spoke not in the hushed tones of a lover, but with the cold solemnity of Nagel und Hammer’s ruthless leader.

 

“Sinclair, do you know what’s the most effective way of getting rid of vermin?”

 

He shook his head. Kromer wasn’t expecting an answer from him.

 

“You corner them in a place where they won’t be able to escape, as bugs can be quite slippery, and then, when you are sure they have nowhere else to go… you strike them down. Nowadays most use pesticides, but I think fire will work just fine.”

 

Sinclair’s hand involuntarily squeezed her knee at the thought. As she spoke, he could almost imagine it: the piercing smell of burning fuel, his hand closing around a crooked neck, the satisfying sound of metal bending.

 

“We’ll divide our forces. I’ve long been wanting to see you in the spotlight, it’ll help you get used to the commanding role you so deserve… My One Who Shall Grip.”

 

The flattery didn’t stroke his ego, as he knew was her intention, even when most of the time being recognized by Kromer was enough to bring him to his knees. Following her commands was always so easy, it always felt so right to do so. This time, however, Kromer’s words stirred an acute feeling of anxiety within him.

  

“You want me to lead the vanguard…” She smiled softly, satisfied by how quickly he caught on. “And you…?”

 

“As I said, bugs can be quite hard to pin down. Guido and I will chase them from this side of the tunnels and you’ll wait for them at the other side. The other entrance shouldn’t be too far from here, a couple of miles at most.” Kromer let her head rest over Sinclair’s, gently nuzzling his dampened curls. It was the longest contact they had shared in days, but Sinclair didn’t move to reciprocate her touch. “Then, it will only be a matter of them choosing whether they want to meet their end at your hands or succumb to our purifying fires.”

 

“Kromer, I don’t think…”

 

“It’ll probably take us a week or so, but it’s what needs to be done. We can’t have those heretics multiplying across the City, can we?” Once again, he shook his head. “Besides, we won’t be able to fight side-by-side forever. I want you to be able to stand on your own, in preparation for the day when you’ll come to surpass me.”

 

She spoke about it quite often, her visions of the man he would become. Whenever the subject came up, Kromer’s expression would turn ecstatic or, on rare occasions, almost nostalgic. It made Sinclair wonder how absurd it was to feel jealous of a version of himself that didn’t exist yet.

 

Even so, he believed in the future she spoke of, and made Kromer’s hopes his own. Because she needed him. She needed him more than he needed to keep his hands untainted.

 

But if Kromer had needed him so badly, as she whispered lovingly to him late at night, as Sinclair craved her to do, then why would she ever envision a future where the two of them parted ways?

 

“My Sinclair? Are you alright? Your breathing is a little…”

 

The idea made the heart stirring inside of his chest feel bruised, as if a hand was squeezing it.

 

“Kromer…” He grabbed her sides, hard enough to leave a mark, but Kromer didn’t move an inch. “Why… Something like that, why would you ever think—”

 

“Eh, you don’t like the plan after all? But wouldn’t you say it’s the best decision? I gave it a lot of thought.”

 

“I— No, Kromer, I don’t want to—”

 

“But if you have a better suggestion I’m willing to hear it, naturally! It’s not that big of a deal in the first place. Ah, perhaps you want me to send Guido along with you? That’s alright too, really.”

 

“Kromer!”

 

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, or to shake her by the shoulders, but his body acted on impulse.

 

“Yes, my Sinclair?”

 

Despite his sudden outburst, she wasn’t taken aback, and her expression remained completely neutral apart from the subtle hint of a smile. At the sight, Sinclair felt himself full of an all too familiar desire and fear he didn’t want to admit. But he felt both, strong enough to strangle.

 

“I…”

 

There were many ways to say what Sinclair wanted to say, and yet none of them came to him. But in spite of that, this time he didn’t have to force the words out of his mouth. They spilled out of him the moment Kromer tilted her head, prompting him to continue.

 

“I don’t want to be apart from you, no matter the reason.”

 

He was getting worked up over such a small matter. Sinclair was well aware of it. Barely a week of separation, even less so if he put his mind into finishing the task quickly, and then he could return to her side. What weighed on his mind wasn’t the mission, but Kromer’s insinuation of making her absence a regular thing. Something they should strive for.

 

“Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. That’s how it has to be, Kromer…” As if contrasting with the intensity of his grip around Kromer’s shoulders, Sinclair’s let his head rest against her neck, curling into himself like a small child.

 

What a pathetic display, he thought. He was supposed to be her strength, a man Kromer could rely on. Her hero, she had called him, and Sinclair had swallowed every single one of her words with desperate hunger, as if receiving her holy communion. And yet here he was, refusing to follow her commandments, despite knowing Kromer’s decisions were never wrong. If she believed that setting their paths apart would lead Nagel und Hammer closer to victory, closer to cleansing this earth from filth, then that surely must be the truth.

 

But clearly, Sinclair wasn’t a humanitarian as selfless as Kromer was. He devoted his entire self to their cause, to the best of his abilities. He really did try! However, at the end of the day, he was painfully human. No matter how strongly he tried to surrender his egotistical desires in the name of something far greater, to stomp over that unsightly, greedy little heart of his, there was always this thirst that prevailed over anything else.

 

“Don’t leave me…” He whispered, too afraid of turning his gaze towards Kromer. The possibility of finding disappointment in her eyes was just too frightening.

 

That never-ending ache of love and sorrow he dedicated only to her. Perhaps in some other life he could have refused it. He could have torn his hair and screamed, facing a choice that would split him from Kromer forever. But not in this one. He would never let go of Kromer’s hand, even if it meant going against her wishes.

 

“Sinclair.” Strangely, her voice sounded pleased. Maybe another act of kindness Sinclair was undeserving of. “Haven’t I told you plenty of times already? There’s nothing, not a single thing I will deny to you.”

 

From the corner of his eye, he dared to look back at her. Only the gentle light of the bedside lamp illuminated half of her figure.

 

“But for that, I need you to be honest. This is not about our plans to eradicate the heretics, is it?”

 

No, that much was obvious. Kromer had always directed their troops with undeniable skill, it never ceased to amaze Sinclair. Albeit some battles had proved to be more challenging than they had anticipated, especially when they encountered a pesky Fixer or two foolish enough to defy them, victory always followed their One Who Grips. And so, he would never dare to question her judgment, for Sinclair was her nail. In Kromer’s hands, it was up to her to decide how to make the best use of him.

 

“What is it that you desire? Tell me, Sinclair.”

 

Kromer caressed one of his cheeks, not unlike how she had done hours before, only this time her touch stayed on him.

 

Relief broke into Sinclair’s face, and she reached for him. He let her hold him, and pressed against Kromer’s warm body so close that nothing would fit between them.

 

We should be always together, your hand always close enough for me to catch hold of. I want to be able to call you, always. I want to be able to knock on your door, or better yet, to enter inside and know myself welcomed. I want to be able to keep your key and to give you mine.

 

But such intensity was still too much for him to say out loud. Instead, when Sinclair spoke, he spoke about needs.

 

“I need your closeness… You don’t know how lost I felt without it.”

 

Spending the night together was the proof of their love, the body its ultimate witness. That’s what Kromer had taught him. And if that was taken away, what would then remain? What would remain of Sinclair, who only felt wholeness between those sacred moments shared together?

 

He felt her breathe deeply, her frame shaking with light tremors. She wasn’t crying –well, Sinclair had never seen her cry outside of sex, so he wasn’t quite sure how that would look like–. If anything, it reminded him of those rare times when Kromer would try to control her excitement.

 

“But I’ve made a mistake, right? That’s why you… I’m sorry, Kromer, I’ve tried to figure out what I did wrong on my own, it’s been eating me away for weeks, but I—”

 

“How did it feel to be away from me?”

 

Sinclair answered in a heartbeat.

 

“Like dying. Worse than dying. Like if a part of me had been taken away.”

 

“Was it so painful that just the idea of being apart was too much to bear?”

 

He nodded against her neck, a little bit ashamed. When it was Kromer who said it, it sounded even more pitiful.

 

“My poor Sinclair…” Angling his head upwards, he could see her cheeks blushing. “It’s because, after all this time, you are scared of being honest with yourself. You believe there’s something shameful in your desires, and yet you can’t stand to let them go. But what is there to be ashamed of? Are you ashamed of your love for me?”

 

“N-No! Never, I… Kromer, if there’s a single thing in my life that I can be proud of, that’s—”

 

“There’s this intent, this far-away look in your eyes when they are on me. And I love it, but it’s not enough, Sinclair. I want you to be near to me.”

 

One of her legs intertwined with his, a telltale sign of her desire. Whatever uncrossable distance that stood between them seemed to disappear with each slow, calculated caress, and suddenly Sinclair wasn’t sitting next to Kromer, but looming over her.

 

His movements didn’t feel like his own, and fear still beat harshly within his chest, but that was alright.

 

“That’s it, Sinclair…” She didn’t protest to being pushed against the bed. On the contrary, her smile only grew as his shadow covered her body. “That’s the honest look I wanted to see in your eyes.”

 

Sinclair leaned low, gripping Kromer’s chin, and kissed her –not on the cheek, not chastely or unchastely, but greedily, with his whole, hard mouth, biting, knowing. He ate up her breath in the kiss, wanting to bruise, so that she wouldn’t be able to forget that moment.

 

“Ngh—” Answering him in kind, Kromer bit the edge of his mouth and then gently lapped the injury her fangs had left there. 

 

“Kromer.”

 

The brief silence between their kisses was broken by the sound of cloth ripping. He flushed, having intended to unbutton her shirt properly, but Sinclair couldn’t find it in himself to apologize. She had wanted his unrestrained desire, giving him permission to show that unsightly side of himself. Well, what he wanted the most was…

 

“You won’t send me away.” He continued, not as a question. “We can hunt down the heretics together, as we always do. I’ll skewer them all. I can do it in less than a week, just a day will be enough.”

 

“My, that’s quite the promise. There’s at least a hundred of them.”

 

“It doesn’t matter how many— You want that filth erased, so I will make it so.”

 

Without waiting for an answer, he removed the shirt from her body, throwing it aside. She was wearing a familiar white bra, although it had been some time since he last saw it. Somehow, it seemed to fit her more tightly.

 

“Don’t rip it, it’s one of my favorites.”

 

Sinclair didn’t react to her teasing. Instead, his two hands came to fondle her breasts underneath the garment, earning her quiet moans and shaky gasps. Perhaps because far too much time had passed since the last time they had indulged in one another, he found himself transfixed by the welcoming softness of Kromer’s flesh. They fit so perfectly in his cupped palms, as if they belonged there.

 

“And…”  He gripped her left breast unkindly, hard enough his fingerprints would soon appear on her skin. “You will call for me whenever there’s a matter that needs deliberation.”

 

“S-Sinclair…”

 

He undressed her with ease, her curves and recesses familiar to the touch. Even with her newly cropped hair, everything about her was just as Sinclair remembered it. That realization soothed his gnawing anxieties.

 

Sinclair stopped for a second as he parted Kromer’s legs, enthralled by her naked form. Looking at her, he thought that the cut suited her, almost like a halo surrounding her head. With renewed vigor, he got rid of her pants and underwear in one go.

 

“Because… Aren’t I the one that knows you the best?” He said, a semblance of doubt betraying the confidence in his voice. “So, there’s no one else that could understand your thoughts and your feelings, and your ambitions—” His fingernails dug into Kromer’s knees, “better than me…”.

 

She didn’t answer him with words, which only served to arouse that feverish desire that made him feel lightheaded. Instead, Kromer shifted in bed, making room for Sinclair to settle more comfortably between her legs. That was all the prompting he needed.

 

He quenched that which burned within him by sinking his hands into her inner thighs and drinking from her parting flesh. Sinclair stroked where her skin was softest, and his lips found the tender places left aching by his touch. Kromer’s generous thighs were surprisingly soft and unmarred, despite the kind of life she led.

 

“A-Ah, Sinclair… You did not eat, even when I made sure to remind you...” He ignored the teasing, focused on his mission of parting her lower lips with his tongue.

 

Sinclair raised her hips forcefully, bringing her closer until he could fully press his face against her body and kiss her with animal-thirst. Kromer moaned loudly, although no hands came to rest over his head, as they should have, and her trembling legs remained wide open instead of closing around him. She did roll her hips once Sinclair plunged his tongue into her, revealing the excitement that for some reason she was trying to conceal.

 

“I-If, if it’s not shame that you feel—” When he glanced upwards, he was rewarded with the sight of that attractive flush on her face, her chest rising and falling with needy, shaky breaths. A silent admission. Sinclair grinded his hips against the mattress, not bothering trying to hide his movements, just seeking some kind of momentary relief. He was way too bothered by the uncomfortable sensation of his pants clinging to his arousal to care about appearances.

 

“If it’s not that, then the thing holding you back must be… A-Ahh~ Sinclair…” At that moment, he realized how much he had missed her taste. A sudden, all-consuming desire to kiss her once more made his mouth water, but just when Sinclair began to consider how much it would frustrate Kromer if he removed his lips from her tender flesh, she continued speaking.

 

“Are you afraid?”

 

Afraid?

 

Of course not, he thought. There was certainly no shame or guilt when their bodies joined together, those foolish compulsions were left behind long ago, buried in his backyard. As for fears, what was there to fear about this wonderful connection that brought meaning to his life? Nothing, absolutely nothing. Even if there was pain hidden in that pleasure, concealed fangs that drew blood after a kiss, and his own passions made him shudder. Sinclair welcomed it all.

 

Besides, would it be so wrong to be afraid? He wasn’t, he truly wasn’t afraid. Perhaps he did fear losing that which made Kromer a part of him, and him a part of her. But what of it? True love partakes of terror, he had once read. And that something between them, it was certainly love.

 

His tongue swept long passes over Kromer’s folds, then circled her clit for a few heady seconds before returning to its original course. There was devotion in each of his movements. She whined, trembled, resisted the urge to kick her heels into the bed. Sinclair pulled back to briefly gauge her reaction, and when her silver eyes meet his, he leaned down, sucking ravenously where he knew it would please her the most.

 

“Sinclair! Oh, so that’s it. That’s… I had suspected as much but— Yes, that’s it, just like that…!”

 

A hum escaped him, but not really in answer to her words. There was only the smell of her sex, and that soft feeling of her muscles under his fingertips that made Sinclair want to grip her until she would bruise. Gasps echoed inside the room, there, there, there—

 

“Please, my Sinclair… A-Ah! S-Sinclair, I’m going to…”

 

She was so excited. If Sinclair wasn’t drinking every drop of her like a starved man, the bedsheets would be soaked already. Ah, he was so glad. Kromer wanted him. She needed him. She was in the air all around him. After he was done working her open with his tongue, he would be able to enter her with a single thrust of his hips. Did she still love him? Yes, of course she did. But he wanted to hear it from her. Kromer, he begged wordlessly, you have to say it.

 

Kromer came, and the taste of her burned Sinclair’s mouth with its sweetness.

 

Extended palms flanked her head before she had the chance to catch her breath. The bed creaked under the shift of Sinclair’s weight, who looked down on her as he licked his damp lips. Kromer tilted her head to the left, eyes glossy and unfocused, but somehow managing a sharp smile.

 

“Perhaps that fear isn’t too different from desire…” Her hand came to caress his own, fingers intertwining together. He answered grasping her tightly, just shy from being painful. Foolishly, Sinclair could almost imagine the imprints of their hands merging, which was the best next thing he could get in his desire to become one with Kromer even more fully, “However…”

 

Kromer subtly buckled her hips forward, gracing him with that sorely missed pressure that sent ripples of bliss across his body.

 

“You are mistaken, Sinclair. What I’ve been wanting from you isn’t the atonement of any sin. You know that’s not what I wish for when I look at you.”

 

Her words reminded him of the lethargic lessons of their school’s priest, who every Monday morning appeared before them dressed in purple, entrusted with the heavy burden of guiding them, poor little lambs, down the path of salvation. Or something along those lines. He was always stressing the words penance and absolution and paradise in his endless sermons about the evils of the flesh. At the time, the harsh light coming from the man’s optic lenses had made Sinclair feel unreasonably guilty.

 

On the other hand, Kromer would hold his gaze, staring blankly at the man until it was him who averted his eyes. He had thought of her as brave, or maybe just unimpressed by what she called a heartless performance.

 

“In fact, it’s quite the opposite.”

 

“Kromer…”

 

Another thrust of her hips. Sinclair inhaled sharply, drinking in her naked form before lifting her legs off the bed, urging her to lock them around him. Thankfully, she seemed to have let go of that stubborn constrain and gave in to Sinclair’s silent, desperate demands without much resistance. While it was Kromer the one who laid bare and exposed before him, she still looked perfectly in control.

 

Heat raced through his body, now finally getting overwhelmed by the return of their intimacy. That impatient bravado of his had disappeared in an instant, but Sinclair’s want remained. Her soft hand was still clasping his, heartbeat steady, unlike his own. He felt it when his arms looped around her torso, on pure instinct and want, his forehead now resting between her breasts.

 

“Now, don’t be scared.” Kromer whispered. “Don’t be scared. Just remember that I belong to you. Isn’t that what you were trying to say?”

 

Yes. No. It was what he wanted to say, and yet not nearly enough. Up until that night, Sinclair had hoped that everything he could ever want to say would be drawn up in his eyes. That their connection would be one that didn’t require any exchange of words. Just a glance, just a complicit turn of his head would suffice to reveal all the inner workings of his heart, even the ones that he wasn’t aware of.

 

But just as Kromer said, he had been mistaken.

 

He pressed three belated words against her chest, and the way in which Kromer moaned next made it clear she understood them. She sounded sweet, almost gasping. It reminded him of her reaction after their very first kiss.

 

“You are mine.” A different set of words, but Kromer nodded all the same, positively elated. Her legs tightened around him, bringing their bodies even closer to one another.

 

Fine, he would admit it, he was afraid. Not even stepping into the role of her hero had changed that. Not even resting in her arms had freed him of that ever-present feeling. It was a shameful realization. And at the same time, it infuriated him. To think that no matter what he did, a part of himself would always remain earnest and dutiful, fearful and insecure Emil Sinclair. Leaving that suffocating Nest behind, donning her colors, what did any of that accomplish if he was still unable to assert himself?

 

“Hey, hey, say it again~ Won’t you? Sinclair~”

 

“…You are mine, Kromer.”

 

He craned his head to kiss the vulnerable curve of Kromer’s neck, slowly and tenderly, while her hands busied themselves between his legs. Sinclair could just bite down, fill his mouth with her, and reclaim that which had always been his. At the very least, reassure himself of that fact. It would be so easy to do so.

 

Sinclair should contain that fervor swelling within himself. He knew it. Or rather, he had to know it. But…

 

His belt came undone easily, and Kromer cupped his neglected excitement with a knowing, teasing grin.

 

At the first bite, he felt a great sense of relief. Her pulse throbbed eagerly under Sinclair’s tongue as he lapped the tiny droplets of blood that flowed from where his fangs had pierced her. He loved her so much, and so, Sinclair bit down again, until her skin was left aching and tender.

 

She bared her throat to him, allowing him to continue, desperately wanting it. And if Sinclair hadn’t been equally as desperate, his body rediscovering the pleasures of their intimacy, he would have spent hours working those wonderful little gasps out of her. Welcoming her into his waiting grasp. But no, he couldn’t. Just a careful brush of Kromer’s knuckles over his crotch could be enough to send him over the edge. And that wasn’t where Sinclair wanted it, or how he wanted it.

 

As if reading his mind, Kromer’s hands settled over his clothed shoulder blades, feeling the anticipatory tremor in his muscles under the thin fabric of his shirt. She spoke, albeit with some difficulty, her voice barely a hushed whisper.

 

“Nail me to you.”

 

Sinclair’s hands slid down her sides, holding Kromer’s waist firmly before taking a long, appreciative look at her. All of Kromer laid under him, her neck blooming with marks that would be impossible to hide under her uniform’s collar when morning came. The look in his eyes was nothing short of reverent.

 

He entered her harshly, burying himself deep within until he was fully sheathed. For a brief second, his vision flashed white and his body bended over hers, reacting to the sharp pleasure that instantly ran through him.

 

“K-Kromer—!” He swallowed, just then noticing that he had started to salivate. Some of Kromer’s taste still lingered on his lips.

 

Silver eyes stared up at him, dark as her lips parted and she moaned openly, disregarding any sense of decorum or consideration for the Hammers that were surely stationed close by. Before Sinclair could decide if he wanted to kiss her or keep fucking those sounds out of her, Kromer rocked her hips against him and threw her head back. A clear invitation to continue leaving kisses down her throat, each touch in equal parts tongue and teeth. 

 

Sinclair sunk into the feeling as his fangs grazed her collarbone, lost in the way in which Kromer held him tightly, hands sneaking under his shirt so she could properly feel him. Had he wanted it, he could had bitten all the way down, consuming her in a way nothing else could. Not the scorching, holy fires still dancing across the village, not any other person that could beckon her to their side, and –Sinclair dared to hope– not even the inescapable pull of their sacred mission.

 

Just the thought sent his blood racing and his hips bucking, knowing with each one of Kromer’s whines after each one of his thrusts that that raw vulnerability she gifted only to him.

 

“Sinclair, Sinclair, Sinclair…”

 

Her voice seemed to be suspended in the air between them, and Sinclair reveled in it, his greed and adoration unmasked for her to see had Kromer turned her head towards him. Too lost in her pleasure, she clung to his back, pressing the softness of her breasts against Sinclair. He kissed her name into her neck, way too sweetly, followed by another bite to make up for that unfitting act of tenderness.

 

When she clutched around him after a particularly vicious roll of his hips, Sinclair had to hold his breath to suppress the curse threatening to leave him. He couldn’t help it, it had been so long since the last time he had shared that type of closeness with Kromer, he almost forgot the maddening sensation of stretching her open. She clawed at his back and tightened her legs around him, completely surrendered to Sinclair’s desires.

 

In the midst of the steady stream of needy gasp and sighs, Kromer shifted her head, angling it perfectly so it would be within his reach. Their mouths met, no hesitation after the initial brush of their lips.  

 

That was it. What Sinclair had been craving, and perhaps what Kromer had been waiting to yield. That unspoken, tangled connection. Selfish, and burning and suffocating. That which belongs to me only.

 

When they parted, both panting breathlessly, Kromer’s face had shifted into something different than the debauched expression she wore before. That previous look of hunger and complete abandon was mixed with something else, but Sinclair couldn’t quite place what it was. He felt her right hand holding him by his nape, and her body pulling him further in, suddenly clenching so tightly around his length that his movements came to a halt.

 

“God, Kromer…”

 

It all blurred together inside his head. Hunger and passion, the flickering embers he sees every time he closes his eyes, Kromer’s unbridled violence as she grips somebody by the neck. Sinclair slammed into her, over and over, and he felt fire down his throat and inside his lungs.

 

“K-Kromer…”

 

Her fingertips scratched his scalp painfully, soothingly. He whined when her grasp relaxed, almost letting go of him, and so she pulled on his hair even more harshly than before.

 

“Sinclair, again…”

 

“My Kromer, you—” The bed creaked loudly, there was no way they weren’t heard. Sinclair didn’t remember a more intoxicating kind of happiness than that. “Always, always… by my side…”

 

He found himself sucking on her neck again. Even if he had ended up spilling his most pitiful thoughts in front of her, everything that he had tried to swallow for so long, he didn’t feel pathetic or ashamed as he did moments ago. On the contrary, when Sinclair pressed Kromer against the mattress with all the strength he could muster, and she moaned so sweetly, a shivering mess under him, he felt exhilarated. Dizzy. Proud, as if he had accomplished something amazing.

 

There was no room for shame or guilt between them. Kromer was right. But when hasn’t she been right? What a useless observation. He loved her. She would never, ever escape him. Her touch always on him. He wanted to keep making love to her until their muscles cramped and their vision blurred, and then some more.

 

“Sinclair!”

 

Kromer cried out, clinging to him with shaky hands as her climax overtook her once again, even stronger than under Sinclair’s tongue. It was a pity that he couldn’t taste it this time, but Sinclair felt just as satisfied when she kept whining softly, moving at the rhythm of his thrusts and sounding desperate for his own release.

 

She didn’t have to wait for long. Sinclair came seconds later, overwhelmed by her tight grip drawing him in, knowing she was craving every single drop, everything he would give to her.

 

He embraced Kromer with all his being, her name burning on his lips.

 

Then, a brief moment of stillness, only broken by the sounds of their matching breathing.

 

 

 

 

 

Dimly, through the haze of his orgasm, Sinclair realized that Kromer was mouthing something against his neck. The words were whispered quietly, but he heard them all the same, so clearly that his heart struggled to keep its pace.

 

“I love you.”

 

The world snapped back into its place. His mind cleared up for a brilliant second. The traces of those perversive, unrelenting anxieties were replaced by the sureness of Kromer’s tone. It made Sinclair feel as if he was drowning, and the sound of those three gentle words were a breath of fresh air for his battered lungs.

 

“Kromer. Can you… Say it again.” He was shameless enough to ask, eyelashes fluttering quickly before his vision got clouded by tears, already afraid she would take it back. “Keep saying it.”

 

In the second it took her to speak again, he felt every little sensation of the body lying under him. The one that was dearest to him: her heartbeat drumming inside his ribcage.

 

“I love you, Emil Sinclair.” She held him against her chest, hands caressing his back with slow, reassuring motions. Sinclair couldn’t see it, but he could hear it in her voice; Kromer was smiling.

Notes:

... wow, those sure were a lot of words someone put together.

Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments are very appreciated ♡ There are a couple of more things that I want to write for them, hopefully they won't be so long... (→ Clueless)

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