[Carlos] Flashback: Portents and Accidents

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Carlos had intended to take as much time as he could exploring how to make Ami really lose control--and enjoy it in a way she seemed to need so badly right now. But even though he'd barely accepted a caress during his ministrations, he found himself panting and starting to shake when he heard her cry out. It took all his force of will to keep from leaping on her right that moment--and if he had, it would have done him in right then. No. He clenched his free hand into a fist, beads of sweat breaking out over his back.

But then she was reaching for him, dragging him into a fierce embrace--and the sense of her seemed to swell up in his mind again, but this time far more powerfully and overwhelmingly. He gasped aloud. It was like drowning, but in the sweetest of ways--and after a few moments he didn't even bother trying to resist. He threw himself over her and dragged her up into his arms, feeling the boundaries of sensation between them starting to blur again as he entered her.

/What the Hell--oh. Oh God. Never mind./

He could feel his own hands caressing his unfamiliar-feeling back while his brain tried to process two sets of lips sliding against each other. He lost track of which set of tangled-up legs were his own. Those were the most subtle of the sensations he was experiencing. His skin was her skin, his nerves were hers, and he was shocked to learn--if it could be called learning--that at this point his ferocity was not only not hurting--it was welcome. Or would have been, were his dual sensations real. Right now, the illusion of knowing what she was feeling was so intense that the few rational scraps of mind he had left wondered when he had been slipped Ecstasy. But illusion or not, that sort of primal acceptance was more than he could take.

When he finally came back to himself, he was so sweetly exhausted that his body felt leaden. /A guy could really get used to this./ It took him about five hundred pounding heartbeats to realize that the side of his face was pressed into Berber carpeting. /Holy crap. We ended up on the floor./

Panting, he propped himself up on his arms and looked down at her with both tenderness and worry. "Are you all right?" he murmured hoarsely.

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[Carlos] Calming Influence

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/Jesus, what a nice way to celebrate Carnival. Rob some half-senile old lady of her pension check. Sounds like something Paolo and Chuy would do./ Carlos was fuming as he let the boy go and drove on.

Ami was touching him gently, and the contact soothed him. His glance at her was a little apologetic. "Here I thought I'd get to leave my job at home this trip." Except, of course, that such things weren't jobs, ultimately--they were callings.

She was doing her best to comfort him, and Carlos shivered a little, reminding himself that any affection he was feeling wasn't changing how the weekend ended.

At an intersection, he caressed the back of the hand on his thigh, and said, "Thanks. I am sorry about that. I get so pissed off when I see someone casually doing something that's gonna screw someone over but good. And for what, money to buy rum? I don't get it. Never have."

He relaxed fairly quickly under her attentions, and by the time they pulled up at his apartment building they were able to talk on other things again. Carlos's slightly troubled expression was due to other things altogether, but he didn't bring that up.

[Ami] Perusing the bookshelf

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Back at Carlos's flat, they changed clothes, and showered again, separately this time as if they had both simultaneously come to the conclusion that a short respite was needed before they inevitably jumped one another's bones again.

Ami had chosen to slip into something comfortable for lounging about in, and wound up wearing a pair of teal satin pyjama bottoms and a camisole pyjama top because that was the most modest and least revealing bit of night clothing that Jade and Marta had packed away for her. While Carlos showered, she roamed the living room, reading the titles of the books on his shelves. She wasn't so much interested in military history or guns, but a few of the science fiction novels caught her eye. While most were more hardcore science fiction, based on war and tactics in a gritty future by authors like Joe Haldeman and David Feintuch, there were one or two with a protagonist that had psionic abilities.

It was one of those that Ami was paging through when Carlos startled her by calling out, "Ready for that pizza now?"

She hadn't heard him enter and she fumbled the book, her heart pounding. (Pull yourself together, Jackson. It's only a book.)

"Yes, that would be lovely," Ami called back, carefully returning the book to its place on the shelf.

[Carlos] Perusing the bookshelf

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Carlos came in with the uneaten half-pie on plates and a couple of cups of tea--guarana, in his case. He set them down on the coffee table and glanced over at Ami, who was just putting a book back on the shelf.

"Only Anne MacCaffrey series I really enjoyed," he commented. She looked a tad awkward, so he shrugged and said, "Feel free to grab something to read or use the entertainment center if you wake up early tonight or tomorrow. I don't care. The stuff I don't want people touching casually is locked up in the gun safe."

"As it should be. Not the sort to keep a pistol under your pillow, then?"

/Not while I have guests over,/ he thought, but simply said "No."

[Ami] Playful Teasing

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Ami walked over and sat down beside him, tucking one leg beneath her. She reached for a slice of pizza and asked, "So, what do you do for fun when you're not body building or seducing British tourists?"

She smiled teasingly as she asked the question, her eyes twinkling with laughter.