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There’s a small flask of gin that Roger gave her once. That had been his drink of choice, not hers. It had been a stupid novelty thing too, a flask that didn’t look like a flask, but instead like a lipstick. It was hardly more than two shots worth of anything.
He had slipped it into her pocket while they were out in the field and given her one of those shit-eating grins of his, followed by some line about how a women her age should be drinking something a little harder than apple cider. She can’t remember what exactly he said though. Wanda’s tried to remember it. “Lu,” he said, and then something about the cider. But the exact words are gone. She had swatted at his arm, told him to fuck off. She can’t remember exactly what he said though. Wanda hadn’t thought she would need to remember. She hadn’t thought she might not have a million other similar moments with him.
It sits unsipped for six months, tucked in her back pocket beside the locket he gave her. Thirty minutes after they subdue the children and restrain them, she slips off and finds a hidden place in Rjinder’s lab to drink it. The lid is a screw top and her fingers can’t seem to get a tight enough grip. In the end, she clamps it between her teeth and tucks her sleeve over her fingertips, using the leverage of both to get the seal to open and to screw free.
She drinks it all in one go, trying to drown out Desmond’s screams, still ringing in her ears. He was the one who took the video, she reminds herself. They’re going to put his stomach back where it belongs. This will bring Roger back. This will save Ned. This will save SHELL.
Her mouth tastes awful and she holds the empty flask in her hand. It’s not enough. But it has to be for now.
Wanda doesn’t bother putting the top back on. She shoves the parts in her back pocket and rises, going back to join Rjinder. Wanda has to make this all worth the cost.
She makes it through the rest of the day and most of the night, her and Rjinder working side by side, labouring over the proto-chakra machine, coaxing the stomach into producing the proper kind of goo they need. The heart monster shrieks and thrashes in its prison, producing enough ARMA energy to keep the lab fueled for a hundred years. By the time they’re too tired to go on, her head aches from all the noise and her guts feel like they’re full of knives. Going home seems as impossible as traveling to the moon and she’s staring at her coat and boots when Rjinder interrupts her addled thoughts.
“We should stay on site, in case anything happens.” He tells her, his eyes sunk down in his own skin, peering at her like he’s at the bottom of a well. “You can sleep in the observation room.”
“Um, sure.” She wants to disagree but he’s right - they need to stay here. Rjinder’s lab is off-limits to all others, but with SHELL on the verge of a shutdown, and with the- the subjects downstairs, they should both stay close, just in case. “What about you?”
“I’ll sleep after you. I’m fine. Here.” He puts an arm on her shoulder and guides her away from her things, up the stairs of the lab and out. The halls are empty, even this early in the morning. When Wanda thinks about it, she supposes she’s not that surprised. SHELL’s been hemorrhaging scientists for months now. Who wants to work for an organization that can’t seem to make any major developments? They can all see the writing on the wall, same as her and Rjinder.
Wanda lets him guide her around, though as they near the end, she feels the sudden urge to shake him off. He’s been touching her too long. Rjinder’s always so awkward with her, his hands grasping and then quickly withdrawing. This might be the longest he’s ever touched her. This might even be the longest he’s touched anyone at all.
A few months ago, he told her that he’d never held a woman’s hand before. Not for the first time, Wanda wonders exactly what kind of man goes most of his life without touching another’s hand. The skin monster can’t make it easy, but even before then, he was a normal man at some point. And still, never? Not even once?
Not even once. She tries to imagine what he might have been like as a teenager and finds that it just makes her mind ache. Wanda rubs at her temples. “Is there anything to drink?”
“I could make you tea, if you like.” He offers and she shakes her head no. Rjinder is quiet a moment before he offers, “I believe Ned has some beers he keeps hidden in the breakroom. I could find those for you.”
“Would you?” She isn’t a drinker. Maybe once in awhile, but only with friends, only for social occasions. Wanda’s familiar with the alcoholic checklist. She doesn’t drink alone. She doesn’t drink every night. She doesn’t need a drink to get through the day. Not most days anyway.
Today isn’t most days and she feels she can be forgiven.
The observation rooms are all empty now. While Rjinder leaves to get the beer, Wanda walks in and sits on the bed, taking her weight off her feet. She groans in private and works off her shoes and socks, trying to rub some feeling back into them. It’s been so long since she was on her feet for twelve hours or more. Her ankles are going to swell right up, she knows it. The bed isn’t as comfortable as hers, but the lights are dim and it’s quiet, with only the far off hum of machinery. Nothing is screaming. Nothing is crying.
Wanda pulls off her cardigan and drapes it over the chair beside the bed. She wishes she had something for her head. As she rubs a hand over her face, she thinks about Roger. He’s growing faster than before. Maybe they don’t have the machine going yet and maybe it’s still too early for any tangible results, but she knows Roger’s growth is accelerating. She saw it on the readouts just before she had to turn in. Maybe by the time she wakes and goes downstairs, there will be more. Maybe it’ll be real - not just the shape of an arm, but the form and functionality of it too, with bone and muscle in the right places and the proper articulations. Maybe-
“Wanda.” Rjinder again. He holds up the remains of a six-pack, four beers still attached to the plastic rings. It’s Coors Lite and she can’t help but laugh. Of course it is. Rjinder looks at her then, paused as he tries to figure out what’s going on.
“That’s perfect. Thank you, Michael.” She says and reaches for them. He comes close and offers them over. Wanda pulls one free and cracks it open, and though it tastes terrible, she drinks it anyway. Rjinder hesitates, standing there with his hands behind his back. He’s so awkward. “Sit down. Have one.”
“I don’t drink beer.” Rjinder does sit, his eyes casting over to the chair occupied by her sweater before he sits beside her, the beer between them.
“What do you drink?” Wanda asks, though she’s sure she knows the answer. Tea, knowing him. Tea for him and tea for his monster. “You could get a glass of that and we could have a toast.”
“I… don’t drink anything alcoholic. I never have.” He looks at the remaining six-pack as if seeing a strange and new species. Again, she tries to imagine him when he was young. What teenager didn’t steal a beer at least once? Apparently not Rjinder.
“Well, I’m going to drink all of these, so if you want to try one, now’s the time.” Wanda thinks of the checklist. Do you drink alone? She leans over a little, nudging her elbow up against his side. “Try one. We can have a toast to a job well done.”
When she says it like that, she can almost believe it. It almost sounds convincing, even as Rjinder’s eyes narrow further and he’s nearly swallowed up by his own face. But he finally makes up his mind, pulling off his own jacket and folding it, setting it on the chair beside Wanda’s. He picks up the remains of the six pack and tugs one of the cans free, setting the spares down. It’s almost funny to watch him fumble slightly with the pull-tab, like he’s never actually opened a can before. But maybe he hasn’t. She only becomes more sure that she’s right when he lifts the can to his mouth in the awkward and unpracticed motion of a man trying to mimic something he’s seen only in movies. “To SHELL?”
“To SHELL, and to us.” She taps her can against his. It’s a dull clunking sound rather than the crisp cling of glass, but aluminum will have to do. She drinks her beer. Rjinder tries a sip of his and then holds it in his hands, clearly not liking it. Not that she can blame him. She wishes she had cider. She even wishes she had gin. But instead she has Coors Lite and she drinks deeply, taking big gulps to avoid having to taste any more than she does. “Hah… We’ve got so much work ahead of us now. I’m probably going to end up sleeping here more than in my own apartment.”
“It will be easier once things have stabilized. You can return to your apartment to sleep. I can go home and feed Harry.” He mumbles something too low for her to hear. Wanda’s used to that by now, though sometimes it bothers her. It never seems like she’s meant to hear those mumbled asides, but he says them anyway.
“Harry?” She asks and he looks away for a moment. It seems to take a physical effort on his part to glance back at her.
“My cat.” Rjinder looks down at his beer. He lifts it to his mouth and has another sip. It seems to still not sit well with him.
“I didn’t know you had a cat.” That’s something she has a little less trouble picturing at least. She tries to think of what kind of cat Rjinder would have. Something fluffy or sleek? White or black or orange? “What kind?”
“A grey tabby. He’s good company.” Rjinder looks at her and this time, he seems to do better at keeping eye contact. How long has it been since he sat and talked with someone socially? Long enough that he’s struggling to know what to do with himself. “Do you have a pet?”
“God, no. I’m terrible with animals. I had a couple of fish but I never changed the water often enough, or maybe I screwed it up when I did change it. I don’t know. They never survived for long. After a while I just gave up on it.” Roger had always brought her fish, and she would keep them alive a few months until they died, and then he’d do it to her again and each time they died, he told her that it was his job to come fish them out of her tank for her because she wasn’t going to touch them-
Wanda lifts a hand to her face, tries to casually wipe at her eyes. Goddamnit. She’s so tired this shitty beer is actually working. Wanda tips back the rest of her can and sets the can beneath the tray, glancing over at the last two beers. Does she want to drink another? She said she would do it all but she’s already feeling off and queasy. Of course she is, when’s the last time she ate? Wanda rubs at her face again. Fuck…
Rjinder waits until she drops her hand before he offers her his beer. She takes it with a nod and has another long pull from it. It’s warm and foul but it’s still better than nothing. Maybe she won’t drink them all, but she might as well finish Rjinder’s. His hands now empty, he laces his fingers together again.
They sit in silence a little while. When Wanda feels composed again, she not-so-subtly changes the subject. “When do you think you’ll need to sleep?”
“Not for a while. I’ll wake you when I do. We can go in shifts until things are better.” He shifts then, moving slightly closer to her. The cans between them move as well, sliding towards the edge of the bed. Wanda grabs them before they can fall and moves them, setting them on the chair with everything else. It opens up space between her and Rjinder and she feels for a moment like she’s make a mistake.
But she doesn’t think about it. If she stopped to think every time she felt like she made a mistake-
Wanda has another drink of beer. It still tastes nasty. But it’s easier the more she has of it. “Sure.” She agrees. “I’ll just need a few hours and I’ll be fine. I uh. The noise was killing me.”
“I’ll see what I can do about that,” he offers, and she nods gratefully. If she doesn’t have to hear them, that will make it all easier. Rjinder shifts again, scooting ever so slightly close. His hands uncouple and he lifts one, settling it on the small of her back. He’s staring at her. Nobody ever taught him how to pay attention to someone without looking so intense. No wonder most of SHELL avoids him. The more she’s gotten to know him, the more she pities Rjinder.
Again, he shifts. He hesitates then, caught mid-lean, looking as if he might bolt at any moment. Wanda can feel the tension building between them. The hand on her back is so still. It might as well be a statue’s fingers on her. He opens his mouth slightly and says nothing.
Rjinder’s going to kiss her. That’s what this is. And of course, because she knew it would be. Wanda’s known this was coming sooner or later. It’s been obvious how he felt about her for months, even before- even before Roger’s death. He’s not the first man to nurse a crush. He wouldn’t be the only one to approach her like this, in a vulnerable moment. Wanda doesn’t care about Rjinder, not in this way.
But she’s lonely. Oh God is she lonely. She sleeps alone each night in her single bed, always aware there’s too much room beside her. Her apartment is so silent with the fish tank emptied out and unplugged, just glass and air left inside of it. There’s never any of those nice moments she had with Roger, the little ones where he’d tease her in just the right way or how he’d try be coy while flirting and would flub his line and it only made it all the more endearing and sweet. Roger used to get her small gifts, little things as if to say, hey, I saw this and thought of her. He used to always know just when she needed reassurance, just a kind word or a quick touch.
Nobody calls her beautiful anymore, and nobody says they love her. Nobody touches her anymore either, not the way he used to when he’d reach out to her in passing. Rjinder is the only one who touches her these days and it’s not the same as when Roger did it. Wanda’s starved for affection and Rjinder isn’t who she wants, but she’ll take anyone in this moment.
She tilts her face a little, just to make it easier for him. If he’s never held hands, then she knows he hasn’t kissed before. It’ll probably be bad. Maybe it’ll be better if it’s bad. Well. Not better. Easier. It’ll be easier if he’s fumbling and shy. Wanda keeps her eyes open, no matter how much she might be tempted to close them. She needs to remember that it’s Rjinder. If she closes her eyes, she might think he’s Roger and when he’s not and when the kiss isn’t what she wants, it’ll be worse than if she was never kissed again at all. Rjinder is still hesitating, holding himself like he’s forgotten how to move like a person. And then, he leans in and she gets ready and-
His face opens up. It starts just above his mouth, his skin opening up along its fault lines, lifting and spreading out. She’s reminded so much of the way flowers bloom in stop-motion, the petals all unfurling to reveal what’s underneath (red, so much red). They touch her face, taking hold of her skin and gently sliding over it. It’s a sensation she’s never felt before in her life and she’s left so shocked that she freezes up, only a soft guttural sound escaping her lips as shock overtakes her.
“Wanda,” he says softly. He’s the only one who calls her that. Everyone else calls her Lulenski. A few of them call her Lu. Rjinder is looking straight into her eyes, his mouth so raw and red beneath his skin. “Don’t be afraid.”
The skin spreads further out along her cheeks. Rjinder presses his forehead to hers and she feels the skin between them creep between them, caressing her face. Her heart beats wildly in her chest and she feels very, very frightened. Her hand lets go of her beer and she hears it fall to the floor with a thump. It tips and spills and she wants to look, but her eyes are on Rjinder’s skin as it shifts from his face to hers, gliding over her cheeks and over her jaw, lightly taking hold of her face to hold her still as he touches her.
The beer glugs out, soft spilling sounds. He comes in closer, the gap between them slipping away. Rjinder’s lips are all wrong. They don’t feel right against hers. His kiss is chaste and soft and wet. Wanda expects to taste blood but that’s not what she tastes at all. The skin slips between her lips, thin and wet and salty. He kisses her and she is so still as he pulls his lips back. The skin remains where it is, encasing her face, gently brushing against the insides of her mouth.
His other hand falls on her knee. When she glances down, she can see how his hand is unfurling as well, the strips of skin stretching and finding purchase on her leg. They rub over the leggings and though it should be blind, she sees how it seeks so deliberately, each touch to her knee and thigh careful and light.
“Michael.” Her voice twists. There’s panic beneath it. “Michael.”
“Don’t worry. She likes you.” It the least assuring thing he’s ever said. Her foot is on the floor, the edge of the beer puddle beginning to press against her toes. She should pull away. She should yell at him to stop. She should-
Wanda is too tired. She’s too drunk too. She had a can of beer and a few shots of gin, and she feels like she’s a teenager again, drinking too much too fast and paying the price. Except then, the price had been throwing up in the driveway and having to hose it away before her parents woke and saw what she had done. There had been no one else there with her, no man and no monster.
“She likes you,” Rjinder whispers again and she doesn’t know if he’s talking to her or to his monster. He kisses her again, a little bolder this time. Wanda’s mouth falls open for him and she reaches for something to use as solid footing. Her hand finds his side. Under his shirt, she feels something squirm and ripple. Her own hand spasms, pulling away and hovering a few inches from his side. All of her is so still.
“You said-” Wanda whispers when they break apart. When her lips open, she tastes the salty fluid again and she goes quiet a moment. It takes her time to recall her voice. “You- said. She was a tool.”
Rjinder looks away, pulling his hands back. But his skin doesn’t follow. It strains forward, touching Wanda’s knee, touching her back, touching her face. It lingers between them, stretched over her flesh and his. It’s always expanded out to touch her now and then but- never like this.
“Rjinder.” His eyes close and there’s a sound… a soft sound. There’s something there-
“She’s more. They’re all more.” He tells her. Rjinder kisses her and this time, he does it with purpose. He’s still awkward and insecure but he does more than just press their mouths lightly against one another. Rjinder kisses her with a desperate need, pouring all his carefully bottled emotions into it. Wanda closes her eyes then and lets him do it. She shouldn’t do this, he’s not Roger. But Roger’s dead and-
Wanda doesn’t kiss back. But she doesn’t stop him either. She doesn’t stop when he moves his hand up to her waist. She doesn’t stop him when he cautiously pushes her back onto the bed. The mattress is shitty. The room spins with her eyes closed, the drunken tilt of an unwelcome carnival ride. She’s drunk, she tells herself. This is what happens when you drink one beer on an empty stomach. One and a half beers, since she had some of his. Her toes are wet. Her right leg is on the bed and her left hangs off, still in the puddle. Wanda’s eyes are closed and her body is still, even as he covers her with himself. He’s taller than her, but thinner, weaker. Wanda lies on the bed and lets her eyes stay closed, lets herself drift away.
“Wanda.” He calls her name, trying to coax her attention back onto him. Rjinder settles between her thighs. She can feel his skin creeping over her. It’s not just pressed where his hands are. It’s touching her face. It’s creeping along the neckline of her shirt. It’s on her thighs, skating over her tights. Everywhere it is, she feels it seeking along her skin as just touching her, just resting against her. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. She just wants to touch you. We… speak about you often.”
She’s trying not to be here, but that drags her back. Her eyes open and she sees nothing but black. Then the darkness shifts, pinks slipping in, and she realizes the skin is over her face. “Rjinder-”
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” She feels her shirt lift and then his hands are on her stomach, stroking gently over her skin. “I know, she seems frightening at first. But she won’t hurt you. It’s… not what she wants.”
The skin is probing at her. It pushes against her eyes and her nose and starts to creep further into her mouth when the panic builds and she thrashes, trying to push it away. Rjinder is there in a second, pressing both his palms down on her shoulders to hold her in place. He makes a pained noise and she yells, lunging up against him, but he doesn’t budge. And she can’t make him move, not when the skin wraps tighter around her and covers her mouth entirely, cutting off her air.
“Don’t hurt her.” Rjinder says and she could almost laugh because she’s not sure who he’s talking about - her or his skin. Wanda fights but it’s hard to do much when she can’t breathe. Her nose is plugged tight and though she tries to bite at him, his skin keeps her covered while it stays arched in a bubble, unable to be caught in her teeth. Even though his hands are on her shoulders, she can’t lift her arms any. They’re pinned to the bed, held down by his monster. It’s so strong for just skin, so unrelenting and powerful. His voice is growing dim and she sees light flashing at the corners of her eyes as her lungs burn and strain. “You promised. Don’t hurt her! I’m giving you what you wanted, now-”
His voice fades. Wanda feels herself falling, pitching and tilting to the side. There’s blackness around her, all-consuming and overwhelming.
Wanda’s not sure when she’s come to. Her head is swimming. Her skin feels wet. There’s something heavy on her. She can breathe and she does, pulling in air in soft, shaky breaths. All of her feels weak and tired and her eyes are sore. It feels like she’s been crying.
“There you are. Still now. He’ll realize you’re awake. We don’t want that.” There’s someone whispering to her. It’s not Rjinder. She can feel him holding her down against the bed. Or maybe not holding her. Maybe he’s just there, kneeling over her, kneeling between her thighs-
There’s something crawling on her skin, like ten thousand ants creeping over her while she lay unconscious. She can feel it pressed tight against her, every part of it clinging tightly to her skin. It slides. It moves. It creeps. It’s his skin. His skin is on hers, flesh to flesh, wrapping tight around her. Wanda’s mouth opens and a noise of horror falls out of her. His monster is all over her. His skin is all over her.
“You’re distracting him. Quiet now. He needs to try it on his own.” The voice is so soft but she hears it clear as anything. It’s like it’s directly against her ear, speaking right into them but she doesn’t feel any hot breath or her hairs raising the way they should, they way they would if it was a person speaking to her. Is it- but it can’t be. The monsters aren’t able to think or speak. They’re dumb creatures. None of them have ever spoken. It can’t be-
She hisses and the skin covers her mouth again, lashing tight to pull her jaw shut. Wanda feels the fear spike, but it doesn’t entirely cut off her air. This time, it just holds her silent, as if daring her to scream. Her body trembles with fear but this time, she bites back the noise she wants to make. She holds it in, so she can keep breathing. So this- this thing won’t choke her again.
“Good. Good, Lu.” It squeezes here and there, tightening against her chest and her hips, the pressure mounting and dropping again. “I like you. You’re practical. Sensible.”
Her mouth opens, she breathes against the membrane of skin covering her mouth. She can feel it curled all over her, draped across her body. Where are her clothes? She can’t look down to see. Did Rjinder undress her while she lay unconscious? Did he strip her like a doll and fold her things the way he folded his jacket, setting them all on the chair in a neat little pile? Or did this monster creep under them? Is it between her body and her clothes, wrapped around her like the world’s most disgusting leotard? She shivers and bites back the noise that wants to claw its way out of her. Oh God. Oh God.
The skin undulates over her face, lifting and settling once again. The edges probe at her eyes, looking for something. Wanda blinks, feeling the skin slide against the surface of her eyes. “No-” She whispers.
“Wanda?” Rjinder’s voice. It’s muffled. His hands touch her lightly, resting on her shoulder and hip. The flesh draws back from her eyes and there he is, looming above her in the room’s dim light. She’s never seen him without his skin before. He told her once that if his monster wanted, she could abandon him. He would die without her.
Looming above her, she knows it’s true. All of him is red and raw beneath. He looks like the steaks Roger used to cook for them on Saturday nights, the meat marinating in a plastic tub in the fridge for two days before they cooked them. Without his cheeks, his voice is wrong and airy. His white teeth smile at her, a bigger, bolder smile than Rjinder has ever given anyone before. Only Director Maugras has seen him like this. Only him, and now Wanda, and she’s trapped beneath him.
He’s naked. When she turns her head, she sees that he’s undressed them both, folding their clothes into two careful piles. There are delicate little bloodstains on the edges of her skirt where his fingers must have turn themselves on the rough fabric.
“Wanda.” He calls her name again. He touches her hand - touches his monster sprawled over her cheeks - and turns her to look at him. “It’s okay. She won’t hurt either of us. Not anymore.”
The skin doesn’t answer. But it makes a soft thrumming sound deep in Wanda’s ears, like a laugh. Just like a laugh.
Wanda is still as Rjinder leans in. He kisses her. Though, that’s not true exactly. It’s like the touch. He kisses the monster. The monster in turn kisses her, transferring his motion to her body. Wanda doesn’t move at all. Her eyes stare up at him. She feels so afraid. And Rjinder-
Rjinder looks afraid too. “She likes you.” He says. She’s not sure if it’s for her benefit, or his. She’s not sure it matters.
He lies down on her then, settling his weight against her body. The skin reaches up to him, pulling partly off of her to embrace Rjinder and wrap over him. Pale flesh covers vivid red, but there’s swathes left untouched, still lurid and raw. Wanda should scream and hit him, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t do anything at all. She lies there, beneath Rjinder and beneath his skin. When he hesitates, the skin whispers. “Useless. Both of you, useless. Do I need to do everything myself?”
Rjinder’s teeth shine white as his eyes, both peeking through the skin. Wanda feels the skin move her. It’s stronger than it should be. She moves Wanda as easily as a child might pose a doll, forcing stiff limbs to take the shape of some new pose. Her body leans up to meet his. Her legs are opened. Even when she tries to pull her thighs back together, they’re held apart with a grip like iron.
“No,” She whispers again. “Rjinder, no.”
“It’s easier if you don’t fight her. She’ll be gentler.” He says it so matter of fact, like he’s telling her the levels of ARMA production instead of-
“Pathetic.” The skin whispers to them both as she brings them closer. Wanda’s hand is pulled forward, wrapping around Rjinder’s back. Her palms falls on an area without skin and Rjinder lets out a pained sound. But he keeps moving, guided by his monster. His weight rests on her, and his cock presses against her, hard and wet-
Oh God, she can’t look. She won’t look. She won’t look!
Rjinder can’t bring himself to look at Wanda when it happens. His eyes push away, fixing on the chair by the bed. But she stares him down as she feels his cock push into her. She hears the half-gasp that claws its way out of his mouth, she sees his eyes close. Nobody’s been inside of her since Roger died. Nobody’s fucked her since then. Now she has Rjinder inside of her… Rjinder, and his monster.
Wanda feels like she can’t breathe. The skin holds tight to her and then urges her hips to move upwards, to grind against him as he starts to thrust down into her. It’s grotesque. They’re both puppets, though she can see that he’s given into her, letting her pull her strings happily. Wanda’s head swims and she wants to throw up. She might throw up. She can feel herself starting to gag-
The skin shifts. Her mouth is closed tight. Air comes in her nose but that’s it. And the monster starts to do more than just play with her and him like toys. She starts to touch Wanda. The skin ripples over her breasts, rubbing her nipples and squeezing her softly. It caresses her thighs, motions running up and down the length of her skin. It even uses Rjinder’s hands, moving them in a way she knows is entirely the skin and nothing of him. The motions are too confident. They’re too precise. A few strips creep down, running over her mons and sliding into her. They press against her clit and begin to rub at it.
Rjinder keeps fucking her. He closes his eyes and turns his head to her, as if he can stand this only when he doesn’t have to meet her eyes. Wanda stares furiously up at him, locked in a flesh prison. His breath comes hard and quick, strained pants that get louder with each thrust into her. His cock is deep within her. Little droplets of blood and sweat fall off of him, creeping through the cracks in his monster and falling onto her. The skin holding Wanda tight drinks them in, shifting to suck the moisture off her skin every time a drop falls in some barren place.
Her eyes are wet and the skin tucks against her tear ducts, sucking liquid straight from the source. The monster makes another of those happy thrumming sounds, mocking her or delighting in her misery. “Better,” She whispers to Wanda, “For him and for you.”
And it is better. Her body reacts whether she wants it to or not. Each rub of her clit, each hard thrust in, makes her pelvis start to throb and tighten up. Wanda refuses to make a sound. She presses her tongue between her back molars and she bites down. The tears in her eyes well and the monster drinks them down, but she doesn’t cry out. She doesn’t make a sound. Rjinder huffs and pants from his place above her, his head bowed forward and eyes closed like he’s in the midst of some terrible prayer.
He comes first. It’s no surprise. No one’s touched him before tonight. Nobody’s kissed him, and nobody’s fucked him. Like a fumbling teenager, he comes quickly and with a ragged frantic moan that makes her heart race in terror. What if someone heard? What if they come in here and they see this? Then, she feels the sticky warmth inside of her and she can’t stay quiet any longer, her teeth falling away from her tongue as a horrified groan tears its way out of her. He’s come inside of her! He’s come inside of her! Oh my God, no!
Rjinder’s forced to keep fucking her, even as Wanda finds it in her again to fight the skin again. She tries to raise her hands, tries to shove him off of her. All she manages is to get her hands a few inches off the bedspread and they tremble there, furious and frozen. Rjinder’s moan turns from pleasure to pain and he fights as well, trying to pull away from her even as the skin continues to force him to thrust. It’s only when he’s too soft to continue does she let him go, the skin turning to other methods. Two of Rjinder’s fingers are wrapped tight in skin and with whispers from the skin, he’s instructed to slip his fingers inside of her. “You know what to do. Do it. Or if you won’t, I will.”
“I’ll do it. Don’t hurt her.” Rjinder slides his fingers into her. This is all him, his hand fumbling and awkward as he tries to figure out where to press and how hard to move. His fingers push in and out of her, his fingers crooking slightly inside of her as he tries to find the right spoke. Wanda bites down on her tongue once again. She refuses to make a sound. Even as he brushes against her g-spot, fingers pressing down at the right bit inside of her, she bites her tongue hard enough to taste blood and refuses to let her body cry out. Rjinder sets a hand on her breast, touching her with an awkward inexperience. The skin is spread between them and she laughs into Wanda’s ear. Rjinder stares at her, his eyes open again. There’s no softness in them, just the cold stare she’s come to expect. “Wanda… Wanda…”
Her guts clench. Her cunt does too, and she can feel it building. Her thighs are tight and her body keeps being drawn together as she approached the edge, and no amount of pain is enough to kill the arousal growing out of control. The skin is deep in her ears and it has the softest voice she’s ever heard. “When we put a ghost in you, what do you think will come out?”
Wanda’s teeth clench tight and in a burst of pain and pleasure, she comes so hard she feels her brain go blank. But she doesn’t make a sound. The feeling is overwhelming, but she’s silent as the dead as her hips jerk mindlessly against his fingers, clutching tight around Rjinder and his skin. It’s the best orgasm she’s had in months and she hates it. She hates all of them so much.
When it’s over, when her body eases up and she can breathe again, she manages to open her jaw. There’s blood in her mouth, bubbling at the corners of her lips where she bit down too hard on her tongue. Rjinder comes in close and kisses her. But it’s the skin that presses between her lips, into her mouth. She curls over Wanda’s tongue, soaking up the blood. Wanda stares up at Rjinder. He looks down at her. They don’t break eye contact his time, even as she feels her heart beat so fast it might explode in her chest. There’s flesh in her mouth, probing at her wounds. She could bite down right now. It would kill her but if she could tear it apart first, if she could hurt it…
But she doesn’t. She lies there and lets it drink her blood, just as she lay there and let it fuck her. Only when the skin tries to go down Wanda’s throat is she able to turn her head away, to jerk back hard enough to make it withdraw. Her mouth aches terribly and she coughs, her eyes misting up. But soon as there’s liquid, his skin drains it, leaving her eyes bone dry.
“Good.” The skin tells Wanda. “Good, for once.”
The skin starts to withdraw and creep back onto Rjinder. She’s left fully naked then, her body lying still on the bed. Wanda’s thighs are sore. Her body is blotchy from crying and fighting. The raw meat of Rjinder is slowly covered again until his skin is where it belongs, all around his outside. He’s still kneeling on the bed and she stares up at him. He reaches a hand out to touch her, then decides against it, pulling his hands close and scooting away.
Wanda stares up at the ceiling. He leaves the bed. Rjinder goes to the chair and she hears him dressing in his things. She doesn’t move. All of her is exhausted and horrified and numb. But she doesn’t move.
Where would she go anyway? SHELL is all she has. It’s too late to back out. Four children are downstairs, their monsters powering machines. Roger is downstairs, and if she can bring him back to life, then it will have all been worth it. If she saves him, then it means she never murdered him. But if she leaves now, if she leaves now-
It’s too late. It’s all too late. That’s why this happened now. The skin knows it. It’s too late for Wanda to back down.
She moves then. Her body is tired and sore. She pulls the rough blanket over her. Rjinder buttons up his shirt and she lies on her side, watching as his fingers work the buttons shut. His skin helps him dress himself. It’s so long when she stretches out, taking the button below the one he’s working on. Rjinder puts himself back in order and he returns his gaze to her, his hands swinging back to clasp behind himself.
There is a long moment when he says nothing. He just stares at her. Wanda stares back, her face so blank and empty.
“I’ll wake you in a few hours.” He promises. She just nods, grateful when that’s the right answer to make him leave. The door shuts behind her and she swears, she can hear it lock. She could go check. But why bother? She’s not going anywhere.
It’s too late to back down.
Wanda lies on the bed and feels like crying, or throwing up, or clawing at her skin until it’s as red as he was. But mostly, she just feels tired. Maybe if she sleeps, she can convince herself this was just a nightmare. It was just the shitty beer. It was just the stress. It wasn’t real. If it’s not real, she can live with this.
It’s not real. She can live with this. Wanda closes her eyes. She thinks maybe, she’ll just lie here forever, awake and reliving this. But that’s the last thought she has for a very long time as sleep finally saves her from herself.