Arknights | Autoclave

[veryroundbird]

Rating: Spicy
Words: 1285
Characters: Doctor (F), Kal'tsit
Relationships: Doctor/Kal'tsit
Summary: Dr. Lau and Dr. Kal'tsit get a particular kind of catharsis from each other—and talk for the first time about something worrying both of them. It's not enough.
Notes: Originally a deleted flashback scene from Hand in Unlovable Hand that managed to stand well enough alone for publication.

Content Notes:

Strap-ons, light bondage, rough sex, questionably healthy coping mechanisms, aftercare.

---

There's a slow creep of something like rapport between you and Dr. Kal'tsit. Late nights debating strategy and policy, discussing potential avenues for mitigation of Oripathy in the Sarkaz population from your respective disciplines... you start to realize you're feeling a little more at ease around her.

Even so, when, over one evening planning session she turns to look at you, and you turn to look at her, and there's a heavy, yearning silence between you before her lips are on yours—it still surprises you.¹

Theresa is gentle and dignified and considerate in a way that makes you feel wanted and safe. Kal'tsit is aggressive and wants to kick your ass at all times at least a little, and it turns out you want that, too.² She's looking to be a little bit more in control; you direly want a place where you don't have to be. And so you keep ending up in each others' beds.

And also other places, for that matter.

For example, face shoved down against Kal'tsit's desk,³ as she secures your arms behind your back with a rough tug of cord that bites into your wrists. She runs a finger down your spine, and even through your thin undershirt it's still enough of a tease to give you a shiver. "Good?" she says, in a tone casual enough to make it a rhetorical question.

"Perfect," you breathe, against the laminate surface.⁴ You just really need... something to blot out all your second and third and fourth thoughts right now, and of all the possible solutions this is your favorite one.

"Mm... hm." You can feel her hands trail gently over fabric before nudging your panties down. "Anticipating this, I see."

"You shouldn't be surprised," you mutter.⁵

She snorts, and there's a rustling that sounds like her adjusting the strap against her hips. "You're not otherwise good at signaling to other people what you're thinking, you know."

"Suppose not." You close your eyes, breathing out, and then—there's a thought that's gnawing at you still. "Kal'tsit?"

She pauses. "What is it?"

"Do you think..." You pause, and rephrase.⁶ "Theresa's working herself very hard."

Kal'tsit stiffens in the middle of twining her fingers between the strands of your hair. "Zhanchi. We agreed on no work talk."⁷

"It's not—" Well. The problem is to you everything is a little bit work, at Babel. "It's... not. It's just—personal. Consider it personal."

A long exhale of a sigh—and then she fists her hand into your hair, jerking your head back a little bit; you gasp. "Later," she says. "We can... talk about it later."

"Nnh—thanks," you manage, breathily. "Your—short-term memory's better than mine, so—"

But then you have no more words. You arch in the direction she's tugging you as her fingers delve into you, slicked with lube, spreading you open—but only briefly, followed by the heft and girth of the strap, and—there.⁸

She isn't gentle; her elbow presses sharply into your back, between your bound hands. But that's what you asked for and that's what you need—what you both need. Theresa understands both of you as well as anyone can, but it's one thing for her to know your worst sides and one thing to get her mixed up with them.

"Kal'tsit—" you gasp, and she responds by leaning onto you to press you flat against the desk, hand still fisted in your hair for leverage. No time to stop and think—everything is how she feels on you, against you, in you.⁹

You'd say it was almost immediate, how fast you feel yourself tightening around her toward climax the first time, but your sense of time is slipping away from you. In any case—

"Done?" she murmurs, in your ear.

"Absolutely not," you rasp,¹⁰ and you can feel her smile slightly against your shoulder in a way that feels dangerous.

[1] You'd thought you were having an argument. You're still not entirely sure you're reading her correctly, sometimes.

[2] There's something cathartic about it, in a way that being frustrated at yourself isn't—which is to say, there's a lot of things you'd let her do to you and eventually you started asking for them proactively.

[3] Much to your embarrassment, you can't quite face Kal'tsit with your shirt off and lights on. With Theresa it's fine, but there's a lot about your Oripathy that you don't want to unpack, and Kal'tsit's eye is too incisive, sometimes. Being seen by her can become too much.

[4] "Perfect" is not a word you are given to using, as it is rarely precise. However, in this situation, you feel it's warranted.

[5] You can't argue as she is, in fact, correct. Your notes indicate you're experiencing some rather extreme physical symptoms of stress, so her routine suggestion that you have a one-on-one meeting to catch up on matters this evening was something you were deeply looking forward to.

[6] It's not a matter of whether it's true or not; you're quite sure of your appraisal, upon reconsideration.

[7] You both laid down a lot of ground rules, to ensure that this didn't interfere with your working relationship, or your work in general; it seemed prudent to separate it as much as possible. However, even you have to admit that on some matters, it's difficult to maintain complete distance, even with effort.

[8] That's the oblivion you're chasing—melting into her embrace, the sensation of her thrusting into you, the brief respite of letting someone else have the reins.

[9] Which you are incredibly grateful for, even though you can already feel how difficult it will be for you to stand, later. For a long time you have been deeply uncomfortable in your own skin, and one of the few ways you've found to circumvent that toward the end of relaxation is to be otherwise too overwhelmed to be self-conscious.

[10] And, in fact, neither of you will be done for a while.

---

Sometime later, you've both collapsed onto the small sofa against one wall of her office.¹¹ You've cleaned up a little, and for a little bit, she consents to your head in her lap.¹²

"So. You wanted to talk about Theresa," she says, after a moment, hand teasing through your hair. There's the slight clack of her teeth coming together. "I admit I was... surprised. We've never talked about her in... general."¹³

You turn your face against Kal'tsit's midsection. "Mm. It seemed counterproductive, and I didn't want to compromise our ability to work together."

She snorts. "Why are you like this."

You shrug. "I'm good at my job." Which is both an explanation and a segue. "I can't do the impossible, though; just the very marginally possible. The strain is starting to accumulate past me. She's worried."

"She's always worried," says Kal'tsit, but you can tell it unsettles her. Theresa has always been the solid one, the foundation of this thing you're building.¹⁴ "But we can be sharper."

"And look for more advantages." You can't help but feel a little disappointed, even though it's unreasonable. You knew this conversation wouldn't solve things, just create more avenues for solutions. At least there's something to having a co-conspirator in this. "I'll keep you updated."

You intend to. You really do.

[11] You suspect she sleeps on it, sometimes.

[12] Let it never be said she neglects aftercare.

[13] Which is to say: neither of you has broached the topic that you're both sleeping with her, and furthermore, both in love with her.

[14] If she's starting to doubt, what can either of you do?