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Saria takes the long way across the plains, heated dunes melting into the horizon. Orange streak above the clouds. Open air and endless sky. She's been learning that freedom tastes like salt on skin.
Music crackles through speakers filled with dust, bass trembling against their knees. Muelsyse hums along, insisting it brings the mood up, though she thinks she just likes the way Saria's ears train to her voice, instinctively searching. She won't lie about this: she enjoys the attention. Plays for it. Teases for it. But when the walls come down and the sun is setting across sweat-stained skin, marked and scarred by a past still chasing…
Muelsyse wishes they could talk.
Lately she's been reaching out, steadier than ever. A craving for warmth, a curiosity. She traces a line down Saria's temple, trailing by an ear. Calloused hands clench against the steering wheel, surprise deftly hidden. The faintest flinch. Muelsyse enjoys it a lot.
Her eyes on Saria. Saria's eyes ahead.
They've never really blinked her way. Never truly. They linger on the past, and she, Muelsyse, realises she wants to be seen. If only for a moment.
So the days drift by.
They speak of home and work and responsibilities but here, just maybe, there could be something. This could be okay. Open air and endless sky. Saria leans in imperceptibly, murmuring under her breath. Something soft and easy. It's new and just a bit frightening. Muelsyse brushes her thumb through silver hair and it sinks smoothly, like water falling, water skimming across the parched earth of Saria's walls. If she doesn't think too much at all, she knows she could make it through the fissures, swimming for as long as it takes.
If she doesn't think at all, she could almost imagine being happy.
///
"Put your legs up."
There's a looming form above, voice low, head lower. Ridged horns scrape at her shoulder to the rocking of their bodies. Muelsyse complies with a sense of regret.
Saria never looks her in the eyes when they fuck.
She thinks there are reminders (slender neck, clinical tang, feathers above—not even close and she would be offended but she finds it hard when nothing is being said). Saria grinds into her with quiet desperation. Her shirt is hiked up, held between her teeth to keep her hands free. Free to roam, free to touch. But she doesn't and it's only infuriating. She clutches at the thin mattress shoved into the back of the van and trembles. Only her laboured breathing betrays any want for what they share.
Muelsyse reaches up, hand grasping at the back of their seats, not Saria's chest where the thrumming begins, dragging nails across cheap brown leather. Nothing is being said yet everything is being felt.
"Harder," she begs simply, looking into eyes that glance away. It's cramped. It's hot. She wants to finish. "Hurry—"
Saria groans and shakes, driving her hips, sinking to the hilt and some. Her pelvis crushes down, cock aching inside a vice grip.
Sweat stings at her eyes and she pushes further until Muelsyse folds, curls in, releases, knees bobbing by her ears. Saria digs her fingers into the softness of thighs when she comes, pulling out wetly. It's pleasure and it's pain. But she doesn't want to think about the source of either. She paints Muelsyse in messy white, running the head of her cock through the aftermath before pushing it back inside.
"What's wrong?" Muelsyse says, breathy in her ear and somewhat surprised.
"More."
Muelsyse pauses between a gasp and the slickness of their skin. "You don't normally hang around after."
This is true. Saria leaves quickly every time. To smoke. To escape. She's not sure.
"Been feeling better," Saria says, oddly vague yet direct at once.
"About?"
She stops midway. The heat around her clenches and her mind wipes momentarily. Her arms burn in this position, biceps shaking.
Muelsyse runs her hands along them, feeling the hardened muscles, the curves and planes. She speaks without weight. "Talk to me."
Saria stills and knows it doesn't look good. She slides out with a slick sound, coming to rest on her back, drawing her partner with her. Muelsyse climbs forward to sit atop Saria's stomach, hair mussed, expression curious. Maybe guarded. It's hard to tell beneath her playful mask.
"I don't know how," Saria says, a small confession uttered into the night.
"How to talk… or how to talk to me?"
This throws her off, makes her flinch with not quite guilt. They have history, of course. Countless meetings and company events. Numerous emails and reports. But they've never truly spoken.
Saria doesn't trust herself to answer.
Muelsyse wriggles her hips, sliding back until she settles over Saria's hardened length, grinding along the underside. "Fine," she whispers. "I don't need to know."
Saria throws her shirt off, now soaked with sweat, to lean back with her eyes shut, body tensing to every motion. "You don't?" she murmurs.
Muelsyse feels the twitch between her legs, feels the ache of her clit dragging over burning skin. "No. I don't care."
Saria's shoulders slump with a sad kind of relief.
At some point she slips inside, and even with her girth, Muelsyse takes it easily. Wetness pools between them, hips rolling to a rhythm. And again, Saria's hands are free.
"Do you want…?" Saria starts but stops.
Muelsyse blows a strand of hair from her face, chest heaving though she hides it well. Somehow it's worse to be asked.
"No. Just relax," she hums.
(Funny. She wonders if Saria has always been this way with past lovers, so endearingly awkward, so confoundingly gentle.)
Muelsyse rides her smoothly and it feels like ocean waves lapping, mesmerising in a way. Saria wonders if her powers have anything to do with it. Wonders if it feels good for her too. Wonders when she started caring.
"This is all we are, right?" Muelsyse says, breathless and writhing and eager.
Saria isn't sure when she starts driving her hips, chasing pressure, hurtling over. She meets a striking gaze, windows to the soul, something she hasn't connected with in a long time (here or there or anywhere). Surprisingly, it's not painful.
"Right," she grunts before emptying once more.
Muelsyse throws her head back when she comes too, exposing the smooth column of her neck that's begging to be touched. Saria leans up, placing a kiss there, watching beads of liquid trickle low.
Muelsyse shivers and sighs in the comedown. Her voice is faint when she answers, like an afterthought on the wind, and it's only a little mournful.
"Good."
Saria's chest tightens and that sad sense of relief doesn't go away.
///
They drive past empty towns and emptier fields, coasting up the highway. Saria is desperate for a shower and something more substantial than sugary candy. Muelsyse doesn't seem bothered either way. More sweets for her, more adventure—or escape. It's tempting to forget the rest. The chase and the job. But before long, the van pulls up under a rusty sign, weather-worn and peeling paint.
"A motel? You haven't even asked me on a date yet, Director Saria." Muelsyse is grinning, as cheeky as she is sly.
Saria gets out, sunglasses resting on her face to hide her weariness. She puts a cigarette between her lips, gloved hand twitching. "Don't expect me to pay for you."
They bicker and banter all the way to the entrance, where Saria pays anyway.
Muelsyse skips along, their coats brushing close, worn and inconspicuous, though the latter is debatable. She's scanning the area under the guise of curiosity. They can never be too careful after everything that's happened.
"Only one room? This isn't looking good for you," Muelsyse hums when they reach the door. She's poking her face around, unfazed by the desolate landscape. She's probably the only spot of brightness within it and she knows.
Saria unlocks it with an old key before turning blankly. "This is my room. Goodbye."
The door shuts quickly.
"Hey—!"
"See you for dinner."
Muelsyse shuffles noisily outside, indignant and whining. Then…
Peace and quiet.
Saria stands at the door listening when the footsteps fade away. A minuscule part of her is worried. She can't help her role as protector, even now. The rest of her is relieved, possibly even humoured, though she shuts it all down. Her mind hasn't had time to focus on much else. Sometimes the closer something is, the harder it is to see, and she's never liked uncertainty.
She washes away her fatigue in the cramped and gloomy bathroom, head swimming with the past few days. Dust and sand swirls in the water at her feet. The motel shampoo smells like the rest of the room, vague notes of lavender. It drifts above the musty air and Saria decides she hates it. She pulls on her last change of clean clothes and leaves quickly.
Muelsyse is already lounging on the bed, swinging her feet. It's not surprising at all.
"Took you longer than usual," Saria says, towelling her hair dry.
"It was rusted in," Muelsyse replies, eyes sparkling. She's swinging a lockpick around her finger like a toy. "Or it's like you didn't even try. Maybe you wanted me to join you."
Saria pauses in looping her belt. In the past she would've ignored it. But these days…
She glances away, answering dryly, "Maybe I did."
Muelsyse grins. "I knew it." She hops up, sidling past and into the now vacant bathroom. "Don't leave without me again."
"Couldn't if I tried," Saria sighs.
She finishes dressing and decides to rummage around. There's a dented kettle, some bags of stale tea, mismatching mugs, and a moth-eaten sheet in the various drawers. Nothing of import. Nothing to distract her from the odd churning in her chest.
Muelsyse is singing in the shower, a melody she doesn't recognise, melancholic yet hidden well in the cadence of her voice. It echoes prettily, like it's begging to be heard.
Saria sinks into the bed and listens. How fitting, she thinks, before drifting into darkness.
///
How lonely.
It's the first thought to wake her again. Time had slipped by, mere minutes, but her body feels heavier than ever. Saria turns to find Muelsyse at the window, staring out into the deserted landscape. The inky sky puts her in stark contrast, so small and frail against an endless horizon. Her expression is absent of its mischievous air, and Saria realises a little too late that it's rather upset.
"Muelsyse," she calls without thinking, rising to her feet.
The elf turns and the curtains fall. She smiles so easily, so jarringly. "Dinner? I'm starving."
Saria blinks before swallowing, parched and shaky all of a sudden. "Sure… Sure. Me too."
They hide in plain sight at the nearest diner. The restaurant sign flickers intermittently, casting odd shadows across the road. The occasional truck rumbles by, disappearing into the night at speed. They pick a booth somewhere in the back where the plastic seats are ripped and the ceiling fan spins listlessly.
The menu is faded and sticky. Saria orders the most balanced meal she can decipher. Muelsyse orders pancakes with extra syrup.
"You're kidding," Saria whispers when the waiter leaves.
"You're still paying, right?"
Saria inhales sharply, straightening up, trying her utmost to conceal her thoughts. That lurching feeling in her chest remains unhelpful and she finds she can't say no.
They settle into work conversations, going over clues and gathered evidence. It's exhausting, unearthing grief where she knew it'd be. Saria leans back at one point, rubbing her eyes and seeing silhouettes. Flames. Barriers. Crystal lesions. The bitter taste of her third black coffee has done little to clear her head. Muelsyse seems to know this.
"Let's wrap it up for tonight," she says, putting her fork down. "You'd work yourself into an early grave if no one stopped you."
Saria only stares across the table. "There's no time to waste."
"There is to rest," Muelsyse counters, oddly serious.
"I don't have that luxury."
"You would if you weren't so stubborn."
"And you have several lifetimes to find someone else to annoy," Saria snaps, even if it remains hushed.
There's silence, and for the first time, Muelsyse lets slip the face of a true Rhine Lab Director, imperious and cool. Something glints in her gaze, sorrow that's entirely unexpected. "Is that so?"
Saria almost jumps out of her seat when something touches her thigh. Beneath the table, Muelsyse is trailing her boot to the junction of her trousers.
"Well, we have this lifetime. And right now, you're the only one I want to annoy."
///
Through the window of a dimly lit diner, there sits a silver-haired woman eating alone. She places her knife down, breathing heavily. Her hand flinches, vanishing beneath the table to grasp at something.
The lights flicker—and she's gone.
///
Saria braces herself against the steering wheel though her face remains impassive. The only hint of her frustration shows in the clench of her jaw.
Muelsyse is having too much fun.
She's brushing her fingers over the growing bulge between Saria's legs, undoing the belt and tugging at the zipper—undoing her composure and everything with it.
"What are you scheming?" Saria grumbles, glancing around though she knows the street is empty. It's the middle of nowhere. It's late.
"To finish what I started before you dragged us out."
They're in the van, doors locked. Muelsyse is rubbing at the outline of her cock through her pants. It's leaking traitorously through the fabric and making her shiver.
"Can't you… Can't you wait?" Saria says in exasperation. She fumbles with the keys. "The motel isn't far."
Muelsyse quirks a brow. "So you did have plans for us."
"No! Not like—" A cool hand closes around the length of her dick and Saria shuts her mouth.
"Just relax."
Then a hot mouth engulfs the head.
Saria bites back a groan and shudders, skull smacking against the headrest. She peers outside, hoping with all her might that the parking lot remains abandoned.
Conversely, Muelsyse has no qualms in making her squirm, head bobbing hungrily over Saria's lap. Her tongue is teasing and her lips are soft. Saria feels the tip of her cock hit the back of Muelsyse's throat, the faint choking it elicits, and how it makes her grow painfully hard.
Saria's hips begin to move, slowly, unconsciously bucking forward. Calloused fingers thread through silken hair, scrunching and tugging, unaware of their own tender touch and why they want to linger. She guides Muelsyse deeper, setting a rhythm between them, one she knows will only end her swiftly.
The night is calm, save for their shadows dancing in the side-view mirror. For the briefest moment, Saria finds her mind wiped clean of thought, a blessing or not, she's unsure.
"Mu—" she breathes, eyes fluttering shut, muscles tensing to a familiar surge. "I'm gonna…"
She groans quietly when Muelsyse strokes the base of her length, squeezing just enough to push her over the edge. Saria comes in torrents, thick and heated. Muelsyse drinks her down, sucking through the vibrations. Her entire body quakes, curling in to release between lips that won't stop draining.
They're still alone.
She sits in silence, breathing hard in the wake of it all. It takes a moment to find her voice again, hoarse and hushed. "You certainly are annoying."
"Good," Muelsyse murmurs, licking the tip for one final tremor. She wipes her chin, eyes aglow with a kind of smugness that's only endearing between them.
Saria lets Muelsyse tuck her away. Lets her press a kiss to her cheek without complaint. So fleeting, so teasing, so utterly vexing.
Such is their time together.
///
The air is cool against her face, the pavement cracked and crumbling. There's something about the stars at night that calms her. Muelsyse won't think about all the promises made beneath them, now fallen to ash within their fists.
She grabs Saria abruptly by the hand, pulling and dragging.
"Wait, the van—"
They stagger along, led by the one who prefers to hide. It's still late. They return to the motel, except there's a detour over a ladder and up some stairs, passing by loose wires and graffiti and that vague scent of lavender.
"How did you find this place?"
"I saw it earlier from a distance."
The motel sign looms just above their heads on the rooftop. Saria leans forward from the ledge. It's not too high, only two stories. But the air is just a little cleaner, and the view is just a little clearer. She thinks so anyway.
"This is all we are, right?" Muelsyse says quietly. She's lingering back, watching carefully.
Saria turns with a look of surprise because for some reason it feels like an ending. It feels like the limit she always spoke of, yet never truly imagined. Her tongue seems to betray her, even if her eyes don't. "Yes."
Muelsyse takes a step forward, then another, and just when Saria thinks they might kiss, draws her into an embrace.
"I'm glad," Muelsyse whispers.
Saria won't comment on the rippling edge of her skin, the way it shimmers like water beneath sunlight.
She takes the clone into her arms to hold until it fades.