Work Text:
When Pyrrha gains control of the body, she finds herself sitting with her hands tied behind the chair. This does not bother her because A) she could easily free herself if she wanted to and B) It’s really hot.
Wake stands in front of her, dressed only in her underwear, casually holding a knife and looking hotter than the Dominicus itself. The aura of confidence and strength surrounding her always made Pyrrha's borrowed heart race a little faster. Wake’s hair is clumsily tied back in an unruly ponytail, with strands breaking free and framing her face. Her hair is always in the way and Pyrrha has braided it for her before, in some perverse act of tenderness. Their affair only makes sense when it is a mixture of violence and sex, and Pyrrha knows that trying to turn it into anything else is stupid and dangerous. Unfortunately, when it comes to love, she is good at doing things that are stupid and dangerous.
A shaky breath escapes Pyrrha's lips, drawing Wake's attention. She raises a thick eyebrow and looks Pyrrha in the eyes, confirming what she already knows.
“Good morning, Pyrrha,” Wake says, unfazed by the switch.
“Is it morning?” Pyrrha asks.
“No.”
Pyrrha takes a moment to assess the situation. She is shirtless, which is nice, but she is still wearing pants, which is a shame. The dimly lit room with a bare brick wall is unfamiliar to her, but that's typical. She (and/or Gideon) and Wake never meet in the same place twice if they could help it. The knife in Wake’s hand, a basic utility knife, is clean and Pyrrha feels no pain or the intriguing tingling discomfort of flesh knitting itself together. They were just getting started then. Wake waits for Pyrrha to gather her thoughts. Pyrrha appreciates it, she knows Wake does not allow Gideon the same grace. Commander Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead is not a patient woman, so Pyrrha never keeps her waiting for too long.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asks, twisting Gideon’s hard face into a charming smile he would never manage on his own.
Wake returns the smile, showing too much teeth, and steps closer. She’s a fucking tease however, and does not touch Pyrrha yet. Impatient and eager, Pyrrha has to consciously stop herself from trying to lean closer and accidentally toppling the whole chair over just because she wants to get closer to Wake. She would never let her live it down if she fell on her face while tied to a chair. She is not even sure what her hands are tied with, but she also can’t take her attention off Wake for long enough to try to figure it out.
“I was trying to decide what to do,” Wake says, exposing a bit more of the utility knife’s blade.
“Like you have never used a knife on us before,” Pyrrha smiles at her pleasantly. “You know what we like.”
“Sick fucks, the both of you,” Wake retracts the blade and then lets it out again.
“Like you can talk.”
“That’s how I know.”
After letting her beg with her eyes for a moment, Wake shows rare mercy on Pyrrha, steps closer and kisses her. Wake’s kisses are always hungry and violent, almost more teeth than lip. Pyrrha lets herself be devoured, it is a familiar feeling in more ways than one. Wake traces her fingers along Pyrrha’s broad shoulder, feeling the old scars. Pyrrha only knows how Gideon got some of them.
She keeps her eyes wide open so she gets a strange close-up look at Wake, Pyrrha never closes her eyes if she can help it, in case it would tempt Gideon to untimely return. Pyrrha was a brave woman in life, and after her death she feared even fewer things. One thing that frightened her was the idea of going on standby mode at the back of Gideon’s brain, only to awaken again a hundred years after Wake’s death. With Wake pressed so close, Pyrrha expects to feel the blade at the back of her shoulders, Wake is not above occasional backstabbing if she sees her chance, but nothing comes.
Instead, she slowly retreats, letting a small yet awful distance grow between them. Pyrrha wants to beg her to come back but she holds back, not wanting to appear too as desperate as she is. She moves her hands a bit and concludes they must be bound with a chain. When she looks back at Wake, Wake suddenly remembers her hand and the object in it. A familiar, mischievous smile shows up on her face. Pyrrha loves that expression.
“Are you ready?” Wake asks.
“For you? Always,” Pyrrha replies.
Wake rolls her eyes at the reply, which was cheesy but not any cheesier than the usual shit Pyrrha says to her. She steps forward again, her footwork as sure as it always is, showing she is indeed a highly trained soldier. Wake never moves with any hesitation or seductive sway.
She puts a hand on Pyrrha’s shoulder and grips it tight enough for her short nails to dig into the flesh. Pyrrha swallows very slowly as she feels the cold steel of the knife on her throat. Wake keeps the knife there for a few exciting heartbeats, then moves it lower and quite carelessly pokes the knife at Pyrrha’s chest, near Gideon’s collarbone. The cold blade of the knife starts tracing patterns on Pyrrha's exposed skin. The first cuts are too high up for her to see what Wake is doing so she has to focus and feel it. She starts making out letters. Wake works fast but at Of These Valiant Pyrrha knows what she is doing.
“Marking me yours, how romantic,” Pyrrha jokes because that is the only way to stop the dull ache in the heart that isn't even hers.
She has to make it a joke before it becomes too real. Wake entertains her with the nonchalant attitude, though even she must realize the three of them are well past the point of no return with this affair.
“Am I marking you, or him?” Wake asks, cocking her head to the side in the arrogant way that drives Pyrrha crazy. The question hurts only a bit.
“Same difference.”
Pyrrha does not even wince when Gideon’s flesh starts to obediently knit itself together thanks to the best and the worst gift Pyrrha ever gave him. Wake lets out a frustrated grunt and brings the knife back up to Pyrrha’s collarbone. The blade digs into the rough skin with unsettling precision. This time, she presses it in deeper when forming the A which starts the ridiculous nonsense that makes up her name. It is a very unsexy set of words to try to scream in the middle of sex. Wake likes it when Pyrrha tries, though. Tonight Pyrrha does not scream or even moan her name, instead she tries to keep her expression neutral. A myriad of experience both in torture training and rough sex makes it pretty easy.
Pyrrha likes this game. The scent of blood and sweat is comfortably familiar because her life, and her afterlife, has been uniquely full of both. The sensation of pain mixed with pleasure, and the sight of Wake's increasingly irritated expression up close fuels her desire. Pyrrha watches the wrinkle that forms between Wake’s eyebrows as she finishes her name with Goes Gravity though almost all that comes before it has healed up, leaving only a thin trickle of blood in its wake. Her name is so damn long that if it did stick, it would pretty much cover all of Gideon’s abdomen. For some stupid reason, that is very exciting for Pyrrha, and she has to focus to keep her breath even. That is a useless endeavour since her arousal is clearly visible at this point.
Wake notices, because of course she does. A mischievous spark appears in her eyes. With her hand still on Pyrrha’s shoulder, she roughly shoves her knee on the chair, between Pyrrha’s legs and keeps it there, while still pretending to be fully focused on the knife. With most of their combined weight on the chair, for a second Pyrrha worries the chair might tip back, but Wake is too good for that kind of mistake. Their interest in the knife stuff is nearing its end, but Wake finishes writing her name in blood anyway. She never knows how to quit.
“For fuck’s sake,” Wake mutters when her work disappears once again.
Frustration finally wins, and Wake tosses the knife to the side. It lands somewhere behind Pyrrha and the lack of an ugly clattering sound tells her where the rest of Gideon’s clothes are, which is great to know in case she has to leave in a hurry. There rarely is time to stay and cuddle after they are done. Not that Wake is a cuddler anyway, and no one involved in this affair feels comfortable enough to sleep in the other party’s presence.
Gideon’s blood stains Wake’s sports bra when she leans to kiss Pyrrha, but neither of them cares about that. She is warm against Pyrrha’s skin and for the first time since waking up to this moment, Pyrrha wishes her hands were free so she could touch Wake. Instead of freeing herself, Pyrrha bites Wake’s lip hard enough to draw blood. When she is done, Wake smiles against Pyrrha’s lips before she pulls back again. Her eyes are dark with lust.
Wake reaches for Pyrrha's belt buckle, but Pyrrha‘s time on the body ends as arbitrarily as it always does, and she dissolves into the nothingness at the back of Gideon’s brain.
