Page 109 of The Succubi's Choice

She leans her head against her knees, tilting it to look at him. His brows are furrowed, obviously confused but still there, still listening. “I’ve never done that,” she says. “There are such strict rules, unless they tell me to, I don’t, and...”

She can see him get it, see the click of understanding in his eyes, and he leans against her with a tender motion. “You won’t get in trouble for this,” he says. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Will you get in trouble for that?” She asks, and he wrinkles his nose at her. “With your group, will there be consequences?”

“Only if someone tells, someone finds out.” He stretches his legs in front of him, and she doesn’t know if he can get uncomfortable, feel uncomfortable, with his ability to heal from substantial injuries. “I can control all the cameras in that building, I’ll pull the tapes.”

A single car passes, headlights illuminating them for a brief second before they go away, and they both watch them drive away in the predawn emptiness. They must look like they just came from a fancy date, with her dress and his half-undone suit, and she wishes that was all it was.

“I’m...sorry,” he says, slow, with the motions like he’s choosing his words carefully, like they’re weighty and worth consideration. “I placed you in danger, twice now.”

She feels like she has no defense, no way to answer that. Cause he has, that’s true, and without his interference she’d be...still living her life, still on the restricted feeding schedule, and still unknowing to all the shit going on under the surface of the Organization.

And she wouldn’t have these black marks on her arm.

“Yeah, well,” she starts, then falls silent, not knowing how to answer or finish the sentence. “Yeah I don’t know.”

He’s looking down, away, his eyes tracking the movement of a car down the street. “It’s unfair to you.”

“When you start getting into fairness and unfairness, it gets pretty sticky,” Miri says, and he smiles at her, brief. “But um...”.

He keeps smiling, but it looks more like something to do out of awkwardness, out of an instinct to avoid the discomfort. “I’m used to everything being a transaction, being on a balance of who owes what.” This sounds like a confession. “And I’m very aware that the balance of what is owed is strongly tilted towards you.”

“Is that a demon thing?” She asks, focusing on that instead of any emotions. “Keeping track of that?”

“Yes.” Careful, he places his hand against her back, and it’s tender, gentle, like he wants to touch her but doesn’t want her to break. “I’m constantly aware. Who owes me favors, who I owe, and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to keep in the balance with you.”

“Well you can take me to more orgies,” she blurts out, hoping for the joke and falling flat. “That was pretty excellent.”

He just looks at her, or, rather, looks at where his arm touches the jacket on her back.

“Sometimes, sometimes things don’t balance out,” Miri says, and they both watch as another car drives by. “Especially with other people, sometimes you do things not because of any balance or any promise, but because you want to see them smile.”

Another car drives by, the headlights fading in the distance, and he leans over to her, lifting her chin with his long fingers, and kisses her, gentle, his lips against hers in a way that seems pleading, that seems imploring.

“I definitely want to see you smile,” he mumbles against her lips, like he forgot he can’t really talk and kiss at the same time, and finds the entire restriction ridiculous.

Her heart turns upside down, flops around, at how gingerly he’s touching her, at the tentative nature of his fingers. “That’s not that difficult to do,” she says, and even those small motions brush her lips back against his. “I’ve been told I’m fairly easy.”

He cocks his head back, lengthening the distance between them by a fraction, and she misses it immediately. “I’d like that,” he says, oddly formal, oddly stilted. “I’d like to see you smile, as much as possible, as often as I can.”

“People are going to think I charmed you again,” she warns, her heart fluttering even more. “But...I like seeing you smile as well.”

“I’m not used to this,” he warns right back, “I might disappear, without warning, and not be able to come back for a while. I’m...” He smiles, a bit shy and a bit self-deprecating, “I’m actively trying to replace the exact system you’re working for and that’s complicated.”

A giggle bubbles up in her throat, and he grins right back at her. “I’m going to sleep with a bunch of other people,” she says, because that’s the thing that’s sunk almost every other relationship she’s ever tried. Not that she’s tried, much, and there’s a little thread of hope inside of her, winding around her stomach and her intestines and taking root. “I mean, you knew that, but that’s not something I can stop.”

“Of course.” He makes a small, dismissive sound in the back of his throat. “You’d starve.”

“You’d be surprised how many people don’t get that.” She nudges his foot with hers, the contact welcome. “Or they say they do, then get jealous.”

“Well,” he starts, slowly, like he’s picking each word carefully out of the ether and weighing it properly. “If you consider sex to be the only part of a relationship, I think I can understand them.” He looks at her, from underneath his eyelashes, pale in the sodium street lights. “But that’s...strange to me.”

That lines up with every vibe she’s ever gotten from him.

“Will Thomas be weird about it?” She asks, looking at him, at the face she knows can change in a split second to be an entirely different person. “He’s fairly chill, but...”

“I’ll check, if it’s a concern,” he says, leaning against her, but looking out at the street. “You...handled Beatriz amazingly well.”

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