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POWER IS TAKEN, NEVER GIVEN—SO TAKE WHAT YOU ARE OWED

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POSTED ON Oct 7, 2018 2:54:42 GMT

mid morning. sun light basks the sullen corners of their trashed pent house suite. their clothes are torn, discarded into disarray. as a whole, each garment pieces together a narrative of last night's endeavors. the empty bottle tell a story of regret. the aching may be gone but an obscene soreness replaces it. her back's given out.

fernando is the first one up. he doesn't shy away from his nakedness, standing there in his morning glory. today's news has his attention, the story of an enigmatic discovery adorn on the room's holographic display. his eyes narrow. he can hear her shuffling behind him.

"cila, today's weather."

routine. nothing changes. what happens last night is nothing more than another occurrence between them. whether it's the sixth time or the sixtieth, the morning after is always the same. during business hours, he's on the clock.

but, for the record, they're well past six.

thalia black

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POSTED ON Oct 7, 2018 6:39:05 GMT

how many times was she going to let this happen?

too many. it had become a part of the routine, at this point. the frustration that settled in on these odd mornings was nothing compared to the frustrated resignation that accompanied her at all times with the knowledge that her shame wasn't enough to stop her. this wasn't what she wanted — not wholly — but it was something, and it was enough.

her head throbbed. everything else throbbed, too. it was proof that he'd been there. proof that he'd touched her. she didn't mind. her only regret was that she'd obligated herself to field research during the day to come, but she would power through. it was her job.

she'd felt him get up, but for a while she would just lay there, letting the cold of the empty bed seep in to rouse her. before even opening her eyes, she felt around for the blankets that had fallen around her, pulling them up to cover her bare chest. it wasn't as though there was any need or expectation of her to maintain her modesty, but the extra barrier between her and the world served a psychological purpose.

"what time is it?"

even at this hour, her voice was low and clear. reality was one hell of a wake-up slap. the question itself was simple enough, but there was subtle expectation behind it. how long did they have? how long until the world started turning again?

FERNANDO SILPH

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silph

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POSTED ON Oct 7, 2018 7:42:50 GMT

"ten past seven."

he doesn't turn to address her. there's no need to. the sentiment of devoting the entirety of his attention on her is a trivial one-- one he won't spare her. they're both professionals.

"did you want coffee?"

the faint aroma of fresh brew starts to empower the residential stench of liquor. things start to settle down. the smart speaker recites the weather, time, and his first appointment, much to his chagrin. there's much to do and play times over.

thalia black

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POSTED ON Oct 7, 2018 11:25:17 GMT

not early, but early enough. if she watched the clock, she might even have the time to pick up a change of clothes from the nearby department store. she had long since gotten used to the so called 'walk of shame', but her standards for herself were higher when her colleagues waited at its finish line.

"black is fine." with care, she rolled onto her back in order to reach her glasses, resting on the end table behind her. her body protested, but only as much as she had come to expect. a yawn and a stretch later she was sitting up, blinking through her frames at the news display.

an unintentional mockery. there wasn't a doubt in her mind that the subject of that headline would cross her desk sooner rather than later. she would be excited about it at some point, but there was no time for excitement at seven am.

"when will you be leaving? i need to use your shower."

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Oct 7, 2018 11:38:43 GMT

"eight."

for now, thalia is left to her own devices. fernando's already headfirst into work, swiping hurried fingers across a variety of emerging screens. in private, the text is legible, sized at a distinct sixteen font, times new roman. images make up the bulk of queries, some recognizable, most foreign-- all confidential. there's an unspoken oath between them. it's not that he trusts her - a night of debauchery doesn't promise anything - it's that he can thoroughly ruin her.

the further up the corporate ladder, the less work actually needs to be done. most of it is supervision, catching quotas, and knowing who's fucking up. the call for his departure doesn't bother him. he turns to her, unashamed, pointing at her with renewed vigor. they still have a bit of time.

"so do i."

how implicit.

thalia black

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POSTED ON Oct 7, 2018 12:47:39 GMT

finally content to move around, the woman shifted to rest her head in her arms at the end of the bed. thalia had little care for whatever it was he'd already buried his attention in — she had little interest in his work, save for when it concerned her directly — but she did watch him. she usually did. sometimes being allowed the role of spectator to simple things like these enabled her to pretend that just witnessing him could ever be enough.

he always had to go and open his mouth, though.

she hid her smile in the bunched up sheets. how uniquely him. at least like this it was a given their schedules would line up more closely. maybe they could even leave together. what a pathetic thing to get excited about.

"the coffee will get bitter, you know."

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Oct 7, 2018 13:09:06 GMT

that's not a no. there's a fine line to tread and he's never certain with them. to some it's teasing, others coaxing. but, among peers, consent is important. it's the trash that he doesn't care about. they're just living flesh-lights, toys-- yet, in one way, not so different. what fernando wants, he gets, a privilege he's known too long, secured by wealth, power, and an increasing lack of morals. and now? there's no bluff. she can read him by his biology.

"i like bitter."

a console spring out form the kitchen and into their room, this time corporeal. punctual, as always. the rotom has proved a solid investment. it dips between them with a practiced tact; here when needed, gone when not. as per command, the sound of a fresh shower pitters in the background. it's set to steam. just the way she likes it.

"ok cila, delivery male business casual outfit and female business casual outfit to lilycove suite."

the channel changes and fernando turns his head. the rest of him is left to dangle. eye candy for the loving, grotesque obnoxious for the weary. again, his attention is fickle, divided between his displays. a different channel provides a different source, perfect for hunting additional details.

"ok, fernando! i got that." a confirmation for his orders are met with disappointment in fennekin's reporting. it's the same old shit repackaged. "expected delivery seven forty five. would you like--"

"--thank you cila."

there's no need to order breakfast.

eyes turn to thalia, and, she's looking like quite the snack.

thalia black

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POSTED ON Oct 7, 2018 14:21:06 GMT

"i know."

bitter was something she could satisfy, but it was just one flavor of the palate they'd come to entertain. the situation was complicated in a way that she didn't always appreciate — on the contrary, she could sometimes swear she liked fernando the most when he wasn't interacting with her at all — but... well.

there were few things she was certain of, but she had reaffirmed one fact with herself time and time again: there was nothing this man could do to her that she wouldn't forgive. as long as he didn't know that, everything was fine. everything would be fine.

more than anything, right now, she loved cila. anything to buy them even a few more minutes. such basic acts of consideration meant a lot when one was willing to settle for much less. with the clothes ordeal taken care of she could afford to leave even later, but she wouldn't. there was no pleasure to be found in lazing around on her own. she once again removed her glasses and set them on the same table from which she'd initially retrieved them, feeling stupid for having put them back on in the first place.

"i'm not moving until you turn the display off." she herself wasn't sure if the words were a sincere request or a challenge, but it didn't matter, really.

FERNANDO SILPH

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silph

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twenty-nine

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POSTED ON Oct 7, 2018 19:26:52 GMT

tch. they always had to be so-- difficult. what boundaries other had set for work life balance was one that fernando didn't seem to appreciate. they could multi-task, he was more than capable. but no, she had to be selfish. thalia wanted his full, undivided his attention. it made it sensual, or so she had protested in the past. absolute rubbish.

"greedy."

a simple taunt to tease at what he infers to be her utmost desire. he's too narcissistic to contemplate anything else. she's waiting, expecting, wanting, and he obliges. there's a smug grin on his face when he mounts her. the full of his weight bears down onto her wrist, held in place by his own two hands. "fine." he goes in for the kill, straight for the jugular.

"you won't have to," it's a wet whisper against her neck.

last night goes forgotten. another day means another meal.

it's time to feast and fernando is so, so hungry.

thalia black

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POSTED ON Oct 9, 2018 9:07:20 GMT

he was right. she was greedy. she was selfish. in the end, she knew that even this was business. she didn't like it, but she could accept it. how inconsiderate... she could accept that, too. she wasn't with him for his consideration.

modesty was a pretense she could only bother to wear for so long; they'd found themselves in these respective positions so many times that there was seldom room for it anymore. once he'd finally staked his claim, it was surrendered entirely.

"you're so stubborn." she wasn't a girl anymore; there was no whine in her voice, no breathless murmurs, but maybe a hint at a smile.

arching, she accommodated that voice at her throat with the same secret hopes as always. for someone who complained about the marks he left, she went out of her way to encourage them. she made no attempt to move her arms, but she still had her legs, and with them, she brought him closer.

as close as she could. just for a while.

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Oct 9, 2018 11:38:22 GMT

"you like it."

it's about time he's wrong. the extent of his folly is demonstrated by the enthusiasm she displays when sober. last night seems like a sham in comparison. their injuries, the labors of stumbling around in heated passion, go forgotten in a relish of carnal gratification. the coil of her legs last only as long as his ignition, coming to a close with his mastery of the mating press. he rolls over and she's left in a daze.

he's wrong, but only on a technicality.

thalia doesn't like it. she loves it.

-------

drying cleaning is an underrated convenience. it allows them to cut their shower short, ending with fernando out and about no sooner than when his allotted lathering time came to an end. there's a juvenileness to where his priorities lie but thalia knows better. she's special, someone he trusts, enough so to indulge on. that's why he keeps their balance distinct. when the pants go on it's time to quit it.

"fresh brew?"

they're colleagues now.

thalia black

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