XO [Kyros]

Guinevere was earning point after point with every well-placed aim. Lochlann chewed on his bottom lip in concentration, balancing on his tip toes and.....missed. Again.

He remembered her show-off toss to the garbage can earlier and Lochlann could not figure out why he thought this, of all games, would be a good one.

He liked that she was humming, though. It pissed him off at the same time. He tried to pretend he wasn't annoyed as he lobbied another ball and missed.

"I didn't run away," Lochlann said. "I came to see you."

They were arguing semantics at this point. He did run away, but he told Guin he wasn't running anymore, and he wasn't really running from Guinevere, so he could not figure out why she was counting this against him.

He didn't know how to respond to her.

He did not know how to explain to her what it was like to be tied to be a bed and pumped full of chemicals for weeks, to have someone accompany your every movement, to have to sit through therapy and withdrawal. He didn't know how to explain how the walls seemed closer every time he woke up without her.

Another ball went in the center cup.

He realized he'd been holding his without throwing it for a long time.

"You should still be in the behavior center. So why are you here? With me?"

Lochlann was looking ahead and so, for a moment, he missed her eyes on his face. He turned his head just a little to meet her face, looking over his shoulder like he had earlier when she'd first found him.

The air between them sparked again, but her face was so impassive that Lochlann felt like he was the only one feeling it.

His lips pressed together in a straight line and one of his hands came to rest on the wooden counter before them, his fingers splaying across the top to brace himself.
He was trying not to close the distance between them and kiss her right now.

"I wanted to see you," he said.

She tossed the ball and it landed into the center cup without even looking. Lochlann's left eyebrow twitched in irritation.

She asked where her handcuffs were but Lochlann couldn't focus enough to answer the question. His fingers were starting to shake and something inside him was churning and thrashing like the sea during a storm. Lochlann couldn't look away.

He came to her, pulled in by the currents surrounding them, and Lochlann was helpless as he pressed his lips to hers. His hands were clenched into fists by his side.

Her handcuffs were with the rest of his possessions at the facility. He'd escaped late last night, sneaking out and into the currents which were too strong for even him. He'd washed back up on shore and up against the ragged rocky cliffs twice before he'd managed to escape, and that had only been dumb luck. When he'd arrived at the island, he'd snuck into the stables, where a black horse was not unexpected, and he'd grabbed a change of clothes from his locker there. Joining the damn horseback riding club had been the best idea he'd had in a while.

And then he came straight to Guinevere.

He wanted her to stop looking at him like that so he could stop kissing her, but he was helpless.

Her hand wrapped around his and Lochlann loosened his fist to catch her fingers. He entwined her hand with his and then closed it again.

They did look like an ordinary couple, although Lochlann hadn't bothered to look at anyone around them for a long while now. He took his time kissing her. There was no thread of danger, no chance that this could all come crashing down around him at any moment.

There was just Guin.

She was the one who broke the kiss and Lochlann lifted his eyes, watching her without moving. He was ready to kiss her again at any moment.

Or, at least, he was until she asked:

"Why me?"

Why Guinevere Haze?

She certainly wouldn't have been his choice if Lochlann had a choice. Lochlann was used to the sweet, shy girls, the ones who rode horses or drew in sketchbooks or sang in the choir. He was not used to women who killed without hesitation or used threats and manipulation to get their way. Lochlann would certainly not choose to desire the woman who'd tried to kill him so many ways. But, he didn't have a choice.

Maybe, just maybe, it was because she made him feel safe.

But, that's probably what she wanted. An animal willing slaughtered was worth more than one that resisted.

"It's a secret," Lochlann told her.

He let go of her hand, but only for a moment, because Lochlann slipped something inside of it. The last ball.

Oh all the prizes they could have had, it had to be a horse.

Lochlann looked into the stuffed pony's soulless eyes. They bored back into him, reflecting and distorting his face up at him like a fisheye lens. It was soft, and Lochlann held it in his hands, perplexed.

"This is not how this works," Lochlann said. "On a proper date, I should have won you something, and you should be the one carrying it as a reminder of our time together."

But he planted an affectionate kiss on her forehead, tucked the horse under his arm, and brushed his fingers against hers in an invitation to hold his hand.

"A horse should have a name," he told Guinevere. "A good name. What should we name it...."

We.

He tapped his finger off the stuffed horse's flank.

"Guindulin," he said. "The horse's name is now Guindulin."

He nodded at her, as though they had just picked the name for their first born child. He picked up the horse and then, quickly, pressed the lips of the horse to Guinevere's.

"Good," he said. "I have stolen a kiss from you. I am keeping it. The kiss--and the horse. Thank you, Guin."

He was giddy for a reason he couldn't explain, high off of the cold woman standing next to him. Her confusion was endearing her to him further. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to take her someplace he could kiss her, someplace she couldn't escape from.

"Have you ever been on a ferris wheel, Guin?"

Lochlann couldn't quite tell what the look on her face was when he'd kissed her. She looked like she was uncertain, and then he erased her uncertainty by kissing her with the horse. Ah yes, this was a valuable gift indeed.

He couldn't help but smile at her again, especially when she complained about the name.

"It's a wonderful name," he said. "And all horses should have a name. Otherwise, they're just a horse with no name."

He took in the way she stilled and controlled her breathing when her eyes darted from the ferris wheel, to him, and back. Because he was a monster, her reaction was very, very interesting to him.

Her reaction became more interesting when she came up and pressed her body towards his, her chin on her chest, her big COLORFUL eyes staring up at him and reflecting his face back just like the stuffed horse had a moment later. The corner of Lochlann's lips twitched just slightly, the makings of a sharp smile restrained.

He made a throaty sound of appreciation and tilted his head down to meet her, lifting her face up towards him with one finger under her chin. He started to press his lips to hers again and for a split second, Lochlann let himself get lost in the charged current between them.

But, then, he stepped back.

"I will come home with you, Guinevere," Lochlann purred. "I have many, many plans for you tonight."

He was eyeing her like a particularly tasty piece of desert he couldn't wait to indulge in.

"But, the night is still young, and this is a Proper Date. It would be rude of me to take you home so early, like I'm some kind of animal. Come on, Guin."

He left his hand behind him, offering it out, but Lochlann was headed in the direction away from the Ferris wheel, hoping to work his way back there.

There was a carousel. He could hear the music.

He had no idea what sort of danger they were in if Guinevere would agree to go on the carousel.

"You are an animal,"

"I know," Lochlann told her. "But I like to pretend otherwise."

He had the feeling that Guin did not like the sober-Lochlann. If he was being honest, Lochlann did not like this version of himself, either. Everything was intense; lights and sounds were processed quickly and he was hyper-aware of Guin's presence. He wanted her close to him at all time, wanted her pressed up a dark alley wall gasping his name, wanted her in his teeth at the bottom of a lake.

He was trying to stay giddy, but sometimes, he was troubled. He wondered if he should get a drink while he still could, but he didn't want to waste any time looking for someplace that sold something stronger than beer. Lochlann needed to get as much time as he could with Guin, doing proper human things, before the reality that he was a monster came crashing down around him and snatched him away.


"What is this?"

"It's a carousel," Lochlann said. It surprised him that Guinevere Haze, who mastered the art of a sickly sweet high school student, had never been to an amusement park like this. Had she never had to kill someone at a place like this? It seemed that, for someone like her, this would be preferred hunting grounds.

He was not oblivious that she was letting him have these small victories. She could leave at any time, but she hadn't, so Lochlann assumed she wanted something as much as he wanted her. He would just keep stalling, just keep getting as much time as they could together.

The carousel slowed before them and Lochlann walked her to the edge of the line. They were let on a moment later, and he looked at her, his eyes gleaming.

"Pick a horse."

Lochlann never, ever expected Guinevere Haze to make a joke.

It did not fit into his schema of Things Guinevere Haze Does.

He was glad the carousel started and spared him from having to answer, so Lochlann just leaned against the horse behind him and watched. He'd wanted to get off and watch her from the side lines but Lochlann didn't move quick enough, so he was stuck for the ride.

And oh, oh dear lord, what a ride it was.

He did not anticipate this sort of a reaction from himself. His pupils dilated and his heart beat quickened. His lips seemed to part of their own accord and he almost found himself mouthing her name.

Guinevere Haze rose up slowly, and then descended. Her gloved hands gripped the pole and he couldn't help but be fascinated by the way her breasts seemed to press against her shirt on the way up, and the way her butt was pressed out on the way down.

It was warm on the carousel, too warm. He couldn't stop thinking of the way she'd said, I'll ride you instead.

Her silhouette on the back of the dark horse urged him to take a step forward, even though he was told not to move while the ride was moving, but he needed to see her.

His eyes watched the way her body moved, slowly riding and descending. She was mounted on the horse comfortably and it was like her body was melded to it. The pole in the horse's back rose up and so did she, it descended and so did she. He loved the way her thighs gripped the sides.

When he looked up, her eyes were on him, and Lochlann didn't know what to say to her.

His cock was hard and straining against his pants. He was lucky he wore baggy pants for just these occasions, or this might be an uncomfortable situation for any onlooker.

He needed to get her someplace alone and mount her right now.

The lights and music were flashing around them, and Lochlann hardly realized the ride was slowing. He wondered if they could stay on again.

The lust was pouring off of him now. The horse rose up for one final time, and the ride came to a stop.

Lochlann realized, belatedly, that it was up to high for Guin to get down from by herself. She could, of course, but Lochlann meant in a reasonable and socially appropriate fashion.

He walked towards her and reached up. His hands encircled her hips, and he pulled her from the side of the horse and down towards him. For a moment, she was pressed between him and the horse, and Lochlann had to resist the temptation to press her up against the porcelain and kiss her.

He didn't have the willpower.

Lochlann pressed her hard against the carousel horse, his lips on hers. His breath was coming in near desperate pants and his eyes were dark, saturated with his desire for her. His cock was pressed up between her legs; the fact that she was wearing a skirt made this better and worse. Better, because she'd be able to feel it up against her sex. Worse, because it made the temptation to fuck her before they made it home even harder. One of his hands was kneading her breast, groping her. He didn't remember putting it there, but when he realized it he touched her harder.

The rows of horses shielded them from the public, but he only had a few more seconds before someone would come around to tell them to come off.

Finally, as fast as he was on her, Lochlann pulled away and set her to the ground. His legs were trembling and his cock was throbbing. He managed to look composed despite this, as though he hadn't just lost control in front of her.

He swallowed.

For the first time that night, Lochlann was at loss for words.

Lochlann never, ever expected Guinevere Haze to make a joke.

It did not fit into his schema of Things Guinevere Haze Does.

He was glad the carousel started and spared him from having to answer, so Lochlann just leaned against the horse behind him and watched. He'd wanted to get off and watch her from the side lines but Lochlann didn't move quick enough, so he was stuck for the ride.

And oh, oh dear lord, what a ride it was.

He did not anticipate this sort of a reaction from himself. His pupils dilated and his heart beat quickened. His lips seemed to part of their own accord and he almost found himself mouthing her name.

Guinevere Haze rose up slowly, and then descended. Her gloved hands gripped the pole and he couldn't help but be fascinated by the way her breasts seemed to press against her shirt on the way up, and the way her butt was pressed out on the way down.

It was warm on the carousel, too warm. He couldn't stop thinking of the way she'd said, I'll ride you instead.

Her silhouette on the back of the dark horse urged him to take a step forward, even though he was told not to move while the ride was moving, but he needed to see her.

His eyes watched the way her body moved, slowly riding and descending. She was mounted on the horse comfortably and it was like her body was melded to it. The pole in the horse's back rose up and so did she, it descended and so did she. He loved the way her thighs gripped the sides.

When he looked up, her eyes were on him, and Lochlann didn't know what to say to her.

His cock was hard and straining against his pants. He was lucky he wore baggy pants for just these occasions, or this might be an uncomfortable situation for any onlooker.

He needed to get her someplace alone and mount her right now.

The lights and music were flashing around them, and Lochlann hardly realized the ride was slowing. He wondered if they could stay on again.

The lust was pouring off of him now. The horse rose up for one final time, and the ride came to a stop.

Lochlann realized, belatedly, that it was up to high for Guin to get down from by herself. She could, of course, but Lochlann meant in a reasonable and socially appropriate fashion.

He walked towards her and reached up. His hands encircled her hips, and he pulled her from the side of the horse and down towards him. For a moment, she was pressed between him and the horse, and Lochlann had to resist the temptation to press her up against the porcelain and kiss her.

He didn't have the willpower.

Lochlann pressed her hard against the carousel horse, his lips on hers. His breath was coming in near desperate pants and his eyes were dark, saturated with his desire for her. His cock was pressed up between her legs; the fact that she was wearing a skirt made this better and worse. Better, because she'd be able to feel it up against her sex. Worse, because it made the temptation to fuck her before they made it home even harder. One of his hands was kneading her breast, groping her. He didn't remember putting it there, but when he realized it he touched her harder.

The rows of horses shielded them from the public, but he only had a few more seconds before someone would come around to tell them to come off.

Finally, as fast as he was on her, Lochlann pulled away and set her to the ground. His legs were trembling and his cock was throbbing. He managed to look composed despite this, as though he hadn't just lost control in front of her.

He swallowed.

For the first time that night, Lochlann was at loss for words.

"...So, is that all?"

Everything was normal.

Lochlann nodded slowly.

"For now," he said, but then, he couldn't hold her gaze. He said, softer, "I'm sorry."

The memory of her face when she'd looked at him like she wanted him as much as he did was burned into his eyes like an aftershock. He felt like he'd been staring at the sun.

Was he really sorry if he wanted to do it all again?

Lochlann was not so low as to blame Guin for his reaction, but he wished he could. But it was his fault he couldn't control himself, and he wasn't sure why he brought this reaction out in him. Even now, just standing here, he could barely take it. He brushed his thumb over his lower lip.

How the hell was he supposed to make it through the night?

Lochlann realized that they'd been standing here too long. He grabbed Guindulin and then jumped off the carousel, heading into the crowd, hoping and praying that Guin was right behind him, but also hoping that she'd left him, for her own good. He was supposed to be pretending to be human, but he was feeling so much like a monster right now.

He was waiting some distance away, trying to catch his breath, but she was still there and the relief might have crushed him if he wasn't still overwhelmed by his lust.

"Ferris wheel," he said. "It is the fitting end to A Proper Date. "

He wanted to see this through. He wanted to prove to her that he could be human, and he wasn't sure why.

He held his hand out to her.

She didn't understand, and Lochlann wasn't sure he could explain. He wasn't ready to try and share that part of himself with her, and even if he could, what would she see besides a mess of insecurity and conflicting feelings?

I'm sorry because I wanted to treat you like I was human, like you are human, even though we're not. I'm sorry because I can't control myself. I'm sorry because there's no point in pretending.

But he was still going to try.

He relaxed when her hand was in his.

Everything became sharper, somehow, like he'd just smelled his first drop of blood in the water. His cock was still hard and pressing up against his jeans in a way that was almost painful, but it was tolerable if her hand was in his.

Her hand started to squeeze him, and then she pulled it away too quickly.

It was a curious reaction. Had she not pulled away, Lochlann might not have noticed the movement so thoroughly, but he filed it away and didn't attempt to grab her hand again.

She sat far away from him in the pod, so Lochlann put Guindulin on the seat next to him. The horse sat silently, judging the two of them with its beady eyes.


"I'm not familiar with this... contraption,"

Her eyes didn't meet his. She was practically wringing her hands. When the pod lurched, Lochlann recognized the flighty movement of someone who would have dived out this window if it wasn't going up, up, up.

Was she...afraid?

"The view," Lochlann said. "Is what makes it worth it."

It seemed like she wanted small talk, and Lochlann didn't want to let a rare, unprovoked comment go unresponded. He swallowed and said, "It doesn't matter how shitty the place that you live is. Somehow, from the top of a ferris wheel, everything looks different. The lights distort and change shape. Things look smaller, like a child's playset. It can lend you a sense of control or fantasy if you pretend hard enough."

He was looking out the window, watching the pier slowly sink beneath them and then the ocean, full and wide and blue in the twilight. His face softened and when he looked back at Guin, he was surprised to see her eyes on his.

She liked him like....this?

"Sitting away from you?" he asked, not understanding the meaning in her words. She had told him earlier that his proximity, that his lust, was uncomfortable for her, but he didn't think that's what she meant.

He knew how he liked her.

Lochlann swallowed.

He wanted her closer, but he didn't want to press the issue. He kept studying her, kept watching those reactions, and Lochlann finally said, "It's normal for ferris wheels to creak like this."

Lochlann wanted Guin to see what he saw when she looked out the window and for a moment, he thought she might. But, then her eyes were back inside, staring at the horse, and finally staring at him.

The horse stared back at her and didn't say a word.

Everytime she fidgeted with her skirt, the thin strip of her bare skin showed and Lochlann was compelled by the need to run his hands over it. The moon cast a glow over her head and her face, and the reflection from the window highlighted her legs and chest, as though advertising the parts of her that Lochlann wanted so desperately right now.

When they were in Ireland, his parents took him to a Catholic Church, and he saw the faces of the Saints in the stained glass windows. Some of them were in the process of performing miracles in those windows, but many of them were dying.

He wondered which kind of Saint Guinevere Haze was tonight.

Lochlann was still for the most part, only occasionally looking out the window at the view he so desperately loved. He missed her glance towards his lap, which was good, because he wasn't sure how much more he could take.

Horses have better night vision than humans, but it takes their eyes longer to adjust. His eyes, though, were adjusted to Guin's face, watching the way he cheek twitched like she'd bit it, the fidgetting of her hands, and the way her mouth moved when she sighed and spoke.


"I know you're sober," she said. "I like that. You're better this way."

"Oh," Lochlann said.

He had not been expecting that. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but Guinevere's admission that she liked him at all, let alone sober, was enough for his own cheeks to tinge with red. But the blush was fleeting.

"I want you to be like this all the time."

Again, Lochlann was at a loss for words. He looked away from her, and now his hands twitched as though he wanted to move them but they were caught up in fishing line. He wanted to cross his arms but he didn't want to match her posture.

Instead, he tried to tell her, but the words he chose failed to explain it.

"It's dangerous for me to be like this," he said. "And it hurts more this way."

The ferris wheel stopped and their pod lurched. They were only midway up, but the carts below them were emptying to let another group of people on.

"But you'd rather like me to be in the dark lying on top of you."

He wanted her in all kinds of ways, but Lochlann was not going to tell her that. Her words reminded him again that his cock was pressed up against the denim of his pants and there was no one else here except for them.

They swayed gently in the darkness.

Lochlann stood up then and crossed the distance between them. It wasn't even a yard, but it felt like miles somehow. He sat down next to her.

"I want to show you what I see," Lochlann said.

He watched her, looking for some indication that this was okay, but he wasn't sure how he'd even be able to tell. He was sitting right next to her, so close their legs were touching, and Lochlann picked her up as though she weighed nothing to him and settled her onto the edge of his lap.

He didn't place her right on his lap, trying to spare her the knowledge that he was still hard and wanting her. For one moment, Lochlann wanted to show her something other than sex.

Slowly, he shimmied over to the very end of the pod, right next to the window. He had one arm around her hips like a seatbelt, locking her in place against him. He took one of her gloved hands and pressed it to the back of the seat, giving her something else to hold onto.

The ferris wheel lurched and they went up.

He nuzzled her neck, but it wasn't meant to be sensual, only to move her hair so he could whisper in her ear.

"Look," he said. "Do you see it now?"

They stopped, right at the top, and the pier and the city and the island stretched out below them on one side, but that's not the window he's chose.

He picked the view of the ocean because there were less obvious markers to show height. Instead, it showed depth, how beautiful and brilliantly black the ocean was at night, how the moon created a swath of light like a smear in an oil painting. In the distance, it was even possible to see the faint edge of a sandbar or a small iselet across it.

The stars and the moon seemed closer. Lochlann's breathing stilled.

For a brief moment, he was able to think about anything other than kissing Guinevere Haze, but only for a moment.

Up here, he felt human.