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It’s an added layer to the game. This eternal push and pull between them.
Caleb Deathslinger runs Save the Best for Last, Zarina makes herself the obsession with For the People and bodyblocks to keep him from going after a just unhooked Meg Thomas (he sidesteps her anyway).
She Red Herrings a gen after the last of her fellow survivors have been sacrificed, sending him limping across the map, slamming lockers closed when he realized he’d been had. Equal parts of her thrill in tricking him and twinge in sympathy as he corrects his brace.
But the sympathy isn’t enough to stop her when she spots the hatch near the gallows and bolts for it.
BANG!
He spears her and reels her toward him.
“And look what I caught; a fox that thought it could outfox the hunter,” he smiles, keeping her wrapped in the chain but not trying to hurt her.
“Worth a shot. You know you didn’t have to tunnel poor Meg,” she says, half serious, half joking. Meg will brush it off (she's been surviving these horrors a lot longer than Zarina and it takes a lot). But she still aims to help her teammates survive, even against him.
“If I wanna have this time with you, then I do,” he huffs.
“I can try to come see you outside of trials.”
“And what’ll your gang say about the company you keep?”
“Most of them can’t talk.”
Arms around her, the Redeemer pinning her to his body, she should feel trapped, confined, in danger, but she just feels him.
It hadn’t been easy at the start; she’d been curious but cautious, he’d been crass but sincere.
And now they have this dance, this give-and-take.
When she outsmarts him in a trial, she returns to the campfire long enough to drop off her item before heading toward the saloon. Sometimes not even then if he had a bad trial (turns out, medkits can help heal killers after the entity makes its displeasure known).
If he outsmarts her in a trial, he keeps her there for as long as he wants (as long as the Entity allows), but always lets her go through the hatch at the end.
There are minimal differences either way; the conqueror usually gets the first say in the bedroom, but neither ever crosses the hard lines set by the other (Caleb will never be tied up, Zarina will never call him 'Daddy').
In any case, he won so he gets first say. He carries her back to the saloon, arm wrapped around her thighs rather than her waist. She rolls her eyes but allows it, even as he throws her onto the bed of the saloon. And then he’s on her, lips and teeth and hands, finally making her feel warm. She runs a hand through his hair, the other holding his face to her neck.
He slowly works down her body, undoing the buttons of her shirt on his way down to her pants. He grazes her through her pants, and she bites her lip to hide the groan.
“Hey now, none of that Miss Kassir,” he says. “I want you to make your pleasure known.”
“As long as you deliver on that fron-” She cuts herself off with a groan as he slips two fingers past the waistband of her pants. He quickly relieves her of them, allowing him full access to her cunt. His clever fingers know her well by now, know exactly where to press and prod to make her squirm. She struggles out of her jacket, shirt, and bra, all while keening against the pressure (and the pleasure).
“You trust me, Miss Kassir?”
“Why do you ask, Mr. Quinn?” she smiles teasingly.
“I think you know why,” he says, and she hears the clinks of the handcuffs.
The handcuffs are a point of contention. It took a long time to build that trust and he tested it once a little too thoroughly. But they have a safe word (“Hellshire”), and they haven’t had any issues since then.
So, after a moment, she sighs, “Yes. But don’t make me regret it.”
“Never,” he says in a tone that is half teasing, half sincere.
She raises her wrists above her head, and he handcuffs her to the headboard. The bed is a touch too small for him, but he always makes it work, straddling her hips, stroking his cock to full hardness (he has no right to be that big ). Once he’s satisfied, he lines up and locks eyes with her as he slides in, the two of them groaning together. She buries her face in his shirt to hide her flushing.
“You alright, lass?” he asks.
“I’m not gonna break, Quinn, now fuck me before I do it mysel- AH!” she cries, looking up as he thrusts deep into her. He chuckles and she kicks at him with her heel.
“Careful now, Miss Kassir, unless you want me to leave you like this until you can behave.”
“We both know you want this as much as I do, Quinn.”
A part of him regrets not stripping himself of his clothes so he could feel more of her skin on his, but honestly, if he waited much longer, he was liable to make a fool of himself. He’s done a lot to make sure he can last as long as she needs him to and he’s not about to disappoint them both now. So, he plays with her clit, leaving her clenching and arching into him.
“Caleb,” she moans.
“Zarina,” he groans back.
It’s about the only time they’ll call each other by their first names.
He gets so caught up in the feeling of her that he ignores the clink of the handcuffs until he’s suddenly on his back, Zarina above him, swinging the handcuffs from a finger.
“Learned that from Elodie. Turns out, she’s quite the lockpicker,” she says, leaning down to brush his nose with her own. That might’ve sent him into a flurry of outrage a year ago. Now, he just smiles and leans up to kiss her. She responds with equal passion, now riding him, helped by his hands on her hips.
“Zarina, I-”
“I know, I’m close too,” she says. He goes back to pressing on her clit, rubbing long circles around it, and she’s utterly shameless now, just how he likes her.
Her heart beats in her ears and she outright screams as she cums, arching her back like an electric current is going through her. She’s barely coming down as he lifts her off of him, just in time for him to spurt across both their stomachs. She collapses on top of him, sweaty and breathless but satisfied and relaxed in a way that only he ever seems to make her feel.
They lie there, eventually drifting off to sleep.