Work Text:
It’s been five years since Kiera left them to return to 2077. Garza still dreams about her sometimes, the way she looked in that white prison dress, so young, so pure, but fighting tooth and nail, the skirt billowing with her kicks like wings of the angel of death. She dreams about that rough cotton and the smooth skin underneath. So invigorating, fighting for their lives, side by side. Garza can barely restrain herself long enough for them to escape the Freelancers’ crypt. The cold water and long swim to shore shocks her back to her senses, but watching the Protector flop unceremoniously onto shore, chest heaving and heavy fabric clinging to every curve, she is lost again.
The Protector gave a cry as Garza lunged at her, but she tasted of mountain lake and adrenaline, and then the Protector’s lips go from slack to fighting for dominance. Months of tension released. Garza has their clothes off before Kiera even registers that they’re out in the open for anyone to see. She gropes her roughly, not out of spite, but just in disbelief of their freedom. They fuck right there in the tall grass, Kiera biting her pleasure into her neck, shoulders, collarbone, Garza purring in delight.
Garza wakes to the setting sun reflecting off the water and assaulting her vision. There’s a utility shed nearby, and she finds some woolen tarps. She covers Kiera with them, god forbid someone see the Prudish Protector naked while she’s sleeping. Kiera sighs and curls into the blanket as she covers her, and for just a moment, Garza thinks about waking her up, bringing her to the shed and falling asleep together under utility blankets on a concrete floor, and maybe feeling safe for the night. Instead, she puts on her still-wet dress, now covered with dirt and grass, and disappears into the night.