[P] the violence in the pouring rain

[Marisol]

YOUR SOB HAS A NAME

The main difference between who she was and who she is now, Marisol thinks, is the obsession.

Since childhood she’d kept a leash on her heart like it was a dog, and without much trouble. What makes a good soldier? She’d had the stories beaten into her, she’d researched for hours. The only common thread she could find between the most successful Halcyon past was restraint. Augustine, Olivian, Vespir—in the books they were all remarked upon for their composure, the ability to remain calm in the face of disaster. Not for their battle prowess nor their taste for blood.

And she had followed in their footsteps, for a long, long time. Marisol the cold, the dispassionate, the self-possessed. She had been all these even when war threatened her home, even when love grabbed her by the hair and yanked. She had struggled, sure, but not enough to matter. Not ever enough to fail. 

But now—

Something has changed. Her grasp on her emotions is flimsy and getting weaker by the second. When she feels things now, they are stronger and more violent than she ever thought possible. The ocean inside her crashes and roars ceaselessly, making it impossible for her to think before doing, impossible to calculate any decisions: the difference is that Marisol has lost her grip on the deep-buried part of her that dares to lust, and now it overwhelms her, the desire for love, for blood, for… respect.

(She had almost said power, in her head.)

Mari.

A month ago she would have snarled at it. Would have felt it like a slap, a stinging dismissal of her title. (She had been nothing but Commander, and now…) Now she shudders. A carnal thing that rides all the way down her spine. Heat curls in her gut, flares up, a stoked fire reaching all the way into her chest and booming there in coal-black drumbeats. Her eyes are wide and dark and they are simmering, in waves, with something like hunger: she watches the curve of Theodosia’s lips and her whole body shakes, tenses, goes black with fire and hunger and want.

Love will make a fool of me yet. Love. 

Love? Marisol wants to laugh. What do they know about love, two girl-warriors with their hearts practically sewn closed? But she can’t laugh, wouldn’t dare, and feels guilty for even thinking about it when she sees the sheer seriousness in Theodosia’s eyes. They are too close together for Mari to even think about leaning away: she feels the space between them is rife with electricity, sparking and rolling from Theodosia’s skin, and anyway her heart is starting to feel out of her control, like a child that won’t listen, like a wolf that’s remembered its instincts, and then Theodosia says please in a voice like falling, or syrup—

And it’s all over.

A visceral shudder passes from Marisol’s shoulders to her hips. Each nerve is alight. Her body goes blindingly, bitingly cold, then boiling hot. Her pupils blow to huge black moons, almost overtaking the usual slate gray of her iris, and her breathing changes, tightens, until it’s rasping in her throat and against her chest as if she’s struggling to breathe without salt in the air: 

“Please what.” 

It is as much a tease as it is an order, the voice she uses as Commander multiplied by tens. There is no part of her left to hold back, all of her restraint has fallen to ribbons, she has to scrabble even to keep the phantom taste of blood from pouring to fill her mouth, and as she speaks she presses her lips to Theodosia’s neck. (Her chest is heaving. She can smell the iron. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it—)

The words are pouring out of her. Marisol does not recognize herself anymore, twisted and warped by a lust she has let grow far beyond healthiness. Her whole body is shaking with white fire—she gently, gently laces her teeth into Theodosia’s hair and tugs—“Please tell you that I want you still?” The whole world looks and feels red. Marisol can’t quite see, can only smell, taste Theodosia’s skin against her tongue, feel the Herculean effort in not letting her jaws close. “Please tell you no one else can have you?”

She moves her lips to just under the cadet's jaw. “Use your words, Theodosia.”

---

@Theodosia <3

aimless | kokovi