Flight (#2)

"If you want, we can knock you out, it might not be as accurate in control, but it'll hurt a hell of a lot less." Taylor's voice was hopeful as he lowered her onto a reclined chair, strapping her to it.

"Taylor, if you think you'll need to leave, do it." Emil was fiddling with something outside of her field of vision

"I- yeah," he brushed hair back from her face and wished her luck before slipping out.

"Understand that keeping still is very important, move too much and it may have to be recalibrated." He approached her side, still not at an angle what he could be seen.

There was a touch of cool metal to the heat of her skin, cutting down through her shirt. The arm on a rolling table, stark white sheets burningly clean covering every surface.

/Don't think about it Emil, it will be fine, you don't need it./ he assured himself, scissor catching on a wrinkle of fabric. /You're whole as you are, hurting someone doesn't help./

-------------------

Emil no

"Don't worry about me, alright." He dodged the question, hands shaking as he cut through the end of the shirt.

"Forgive me." He pressed, slicing a thin layer of skin off of her healed wound to expose the nerves. Lining up the armature and the reopened wound and then there was a twist, a searing pain as artificial and natural nerves connected forcefully, directly, suddenly, sending sparks of violent fire up her arm, down her spine, to her brain and her toes and everything in her body was ablaze in excruciating pain. Worse than the feeling of having lost it, for that, she had been distracted, falling from an airship did that to one, but this time she was entirely focused on the pain. It was like every nerve in her body was being torn out and replaced, all of them fighting to send signals at once, fighting each-other to be faster, more urgent.

"I-I, I'm sorry,- I" a clatter of instruments on the floor and the slamming of a door, Taylor's surprized voice asking "Emil?"

"Annette, you holding up?" Taylor's callused hand on her forehead. "He's... Uh, well, Emil's a little unstable, he's been good lately..."

He shook his head, "You need to rest while your body gets used to the arm."

The door was opened tentatively, just a crack, so that Elsbeth's blue eye could peek into the room. A hand clasped around her wrist, pulling her in and slamming her against the door, knocking the breath out of her.
She vaguely registered the click of a lock, trying to catch her breath and come to terms with the fact that, yes, it was her idol- the war hero and inventor, that was bodily pressing her into a door.

"Oh." Was the only sound she managed to get out before he shut her up with his own mouth. She melted against the door, /ohhh/.


*******

She bounced exactly three times when she hit the mattress. Why she remembered that, no one would be able to say, because she hadn't gotten time to register that it had happened before she was thoroughly distracted by a blonde head decending between her legs. Her hands gripped the sheets as he flicked out a pink tongue against her, clenching thighs together. In another situation she would have thought the jokes about his skillful tongue were completely accurate.

*******

"Oh fuck- OH FUCK!" Beth wasn't even sure she could feel her legs anymore, or if she'd ever walk again, but she was fairly sure it would be worth it at this point.

"Shh, don't want someone to come check on me, do we?" The smooth voice of the American above her drifted into ger ear, the man himself not pulling himself from his position attached to her neck, the rhythmical sound of skin on skin, and his smirk against her neck.

********

"Shit-" was the first thing she said, waking up about an hour later, scrambling back, out of the bed. An arm pulled her back in, flush against a (naked oh my god they were both naked and he was her boss fuck.) hard chest.

"Where are you going little bird?"

Fuck.