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There is something special, Jay muses, about pissing Nya off.
That look she gets when it’s clear she wants to punch him so hard he ends up six feet under, jaw tightening and fists clenching and eyes flashing like lightning inside a cloud, and she looks like a vengeful deity about to stir up a storm. When she actually shoves him, it’s hard enough to leave a bruise blooming on his skin and Jay carries the phantom touch with him everywhere.
Right now, she storms ahead of him, ponytail swaying in the air. She curses at the key when it doesn’t turn the first time, forces a deep breath into her lungs and tries again. The door opens.
Jay watches from behind with a questionable fascination. He follows her inside and locks the door after.
Their shoes are placed beside each other in the cabinet, her sneakers and Jay’s loafers. It is awfully domestic.
He walks ahead to the kitchen, fumbling around for the light switch. One step, two step, and he bumps into a figure.
The light flicks on, Nya’s fingers on the switch. She’s glaring at him.
“What the hell was that?”
Jay scowls, “What?”
“That—how rude you were to the locals!” Nya exclaims, waving an arm about. “We’re here to gather information.”
“Which I am doing, if you would care to notice,” Jay says drily.
“By being an asshole, is it?” she sneers, “You think anyone’s gonna tell you anything if you act like that?”
Jay scoffs, crosses his arms. “It’s not like being buddies has helped us.”
“Really?” Nya raises an eyebrow. “We found out that there’s other normal people here.”
“That’s—” Jay deflates, but continues nonetheless, “That could’ve been discovered either way.”
Nya groans out loud, and pushes past him to go into the hallway. Jay tails her.
She whirls around to face him again.
“Your jerk act,” she emphasises this with a finger pointing accusingly at him, “Is only gonna drive people away from talking to us.” She’s breathing hard now, like the anger is barely restrained.
“You’re going to jeopardise our entire mission, just because you couldn’t let go of your edgelord persona for once.”
“These people are crazy.” Jay laughs, “You can't really hold them to normal standards. Maybe they like my ‘edgelord persona’—”
“Oh my god,” Nya seethes. “Just shut up.”
Under the dim lighting of the hallway, Nya looks—she looks gorgeous. The lights pool silver on the planes of her face, on the Cupid's bow of her plush lips, halo her hair like a crown of stars on a terrifying siren. Her eyes are like the deepest, darkest sea.
Jay doesn’t know what he’s thinking, but the words tumble out before he can stop them.
“Make me.”
There is a considerable pause, one that presses down like a storm curling dark and heavy on the horizon, one that stretches like a rope fraying thread by thread before it goes snap.
(Nya glances down, once, and he feels his own eyes drift down to her mouth. It’s hardly a choice at that point.)
In one quick stride, Nya is in front of him, fingers reaching out to grab his jaw and Jay is pulling at her waist, and up close, Jay can see the flecks of blue in her eyes, each individual lash, and then their lips are crashing together.
Nya kisses him with a fervor that borders on anger, mouth insistent and heavy on him like a brand and her hands are tilting his face so she can deepen the kiss. Jay lets his own hands wander, the curves of her body as familiar as his element. He rests one in the small of her back, pushing her closer to himself. There’s a hitch in her breath, a quick gasp into his mouth when their hips brush together.
Jay grins against her lips, just before she bites onto his bottom lip and oh is this how they’re playing it? He tangles one hand through her hair, pulls till her head leans to one side. His teeth sink into her lips, and he presses his mouth into hers even further. She tastes like soda and saltwater and a really, really bad decision.
It’s at this point that Nya stiffens. Jay stops immediately once he realizes, and she steps back, pushing him away by the shoulders.
Her arms curl around herself, and she won’t look him in the eyes. When she finally does, it’s with red tinting the skin around her eyes, lips bruised, a flush high on her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she says. Of all the things to say, this is the only one that could catch Jay so off guard.
Confused, he snaps, “What?”
“I kissed you out of nowhere—”
“I kissed you back,” Jay points out. Nya’s fingers drift to her mouth, like a memory.
Still, she insists, “Still, I can’t take advantage of you like this.”
“Oh my god,” Jay says. “Come here, you snowflake.”
Nya looks offended, brows furrowing together in an angry expression, but she still comes closer. Her arms drop to her sides, so that’s a good sign.
“I,” Jay starts slowly, “am going to kiss you again. Okay?”
Surprisingly, Nya nods. Her lips are swollen, red and glistening.
Something tells Jay he has to wait for her, so he holds his arms out and stands. When it is clear that he will not be making the first move, Nya huffs.
Finally, she steps back into his space. Her actions mirror earlier, hands holding his face but this time she’s slower with it, fingertips light on his skin like floating flower petals. She tilts her face up to meet him in a kiss.
This one is more steady than the last one—it starts off gentle, just lips pressed together, before Jay tugs her close by the waist and then there’s tongues slipping on each other, teeth sinking in the soft flesh.
All of the fury from before has bled out of them. There’s still the energy, but instead of an explosion, a fuse breaking, a tsunami crashing onto land, it’s subtler; crackling under their skin, buzzing like static between them, waves lapping at the shore.
“Easy,” Jay mumbles when Nya starts getting too pent up again, her kisses becoming frantic.
Hands on her hips, he walks her back till she’s pressed against a wall. He shifts one to the back of her head before she hits the surface, not parting for even a single breath.
As good as this is, he didn’t bring them here for nothing. Jay reaches up to grab onto her wrists, coax them away from his face and up above her head. He shifts his hold so he can pin them both there with one hand, the other dropping to her waist again.
Nya’s eyes are blown wide when he risks a peek, cheeks painted pink. She could easily free herself from his hold—he can feel the strength corded through her muscles—but she doesn’t. He leans down to capture her mouth again, kissing her deeper. The position forces her head to tilt higher, her chest to arch forward so he can feel each rise and fall as she pants into his mouth, the quick thump thump thump of her heart inside her ribcage. Jay presses into her, kisses her even deeper.
Nya hooks a foot around his knee, and Jay takes the opportunity to slide his knee between her thighs, slots it just right so she’s brushing against it with every movement.
And the moan it draws out of her, god, Jay could drink it like honey and milk. It’s the sweetest, most addicting sound he’s ever heard, so he raises his knee even higher. Nya whines, grinding her hips down.
She pulls back just an inch, whispers Jay into the space between. The heat between her legs feels like a brand on him. Nya gasps, eyes squeezing shut as she tilts her head up.
This bares her neck, skin smooth, painted like white gold in the light, and how can Jay resist? He bends his head down, teeth closing around the corner of her jaw.
Nya pushes at his shoulders, and he takes the hint and moves his face away.
“Jay,” she says, voice even despite her wrecked appearance. (Pride blooms in his chest. He did that to her.) “We should—Lloyd and Wyldfyre will be back soon.”
“Bedroom?” Jay offers.
—-
Once again, Jay has Nya pressed to the wall as they kiss, Nya’s arms draped around his neck and his hands placed firm on her hips. They’re inside the bedroom, door locked.
He feels Nya’s arms pull back, hands resting on his shoulders. Mouth on his, she pushes his blazer off. Jay lets it fall down his arms and throws it to some corner to be found in the light. Without missing a beat, her fingers find the buttons on his shirt, undoing them expertly.
Must be all that engineering, Jay muses, it makes for very nimble fingers.
He shrugs the shirt off, the fabric sliding off his skin like it wants to give them space. Nya’s hands are on his neck now, and the feeling is much more intense without all those layers between them. The calluses on her hands make for a very pleasant texture as they trail down to his shoulders, the lean muscles in his arms. And the weirdest part of it all? There’s none of the split-second hesitation he always gets when someone unknown touches him.
She sighs contently into his lips as she traces over the scars on his chest the way one would a map of their hometown, like she knows every inch of them, where they curve and branch out and end.
Jay hums at the corner of her mouth, hands tugging at the hem of her fitted shirt. Nya pulls away, and when Jay chases after her, she places a finger on his lips.
He waits to see what she wants to do. She pushes at his shoulders, he walks back till his knees hit the edge of the bed. When Nya raises an eyebrow at him, he sits down.
A smile curls on her lips, gleaming like a blade drawn in the dark. “Good.”
Heat bolts through Jay, pooling low in his gut. He watches, entranced as she stumbles out of her jeans. Her hair falls in her face before she straightens back up to tug off her shirt.
An expanse of golden bronze skin greets him, silver tiger-stripes running through where the moonlight falls through the blinds.
“My eyes are up here,” Nya says, amusement glittering in her voice.
Jay snaps his gaze up as she steps back into his space, between his knees. He holds onto her hips, grounding himself on the fabric of her underwear and not touching skin. Yet.
There’s moments when you’re contemplating a decision; standing at the edge of a cliff, at the roots of a tree, thinking—do I jump, do I pluck the forbidden fruit? Your stomach swoops in anticipation, and your head tells you to step back, this is a bad idea, but your heart craves the euphoric rush of adrenaline, the sweet juice inside the plump fruit.
What a soft, messy thing—the human heart.
Jay gazes up at Nya, her space-dark eyes heavy with intent. Her hands tangle through his hair, curls hugging her fingers. His heart jumps.
“I feel like we’re at a disadvantage here,” she says pointedly. Jay glances down at his pants, then scowls at her.
“You’re the one who made me sit.”
But he unbuttons nonetheless, pulling them off and down to his ankles before kicking them away. Nya ruffles his hair, and he leans into the touch like some touch-starved dog, and his heart sings more.
He grabs her hips again, tucks his thumbs into the elastic of her underwear.
“Okay?” he asks. Nya nods, and he pushes them down slowly. fingers trailing sparks behind as he caresses her legs. The short, soft hair prickles against his palms, scars criss-crossing, freckles dotting skin like spilled brown sugar.
Once they’re off, he pulls her into his lap and she settles like it’s her throne. Her hips radiate heat and scorch like a brand where she sits on his thighs.
Jay tilts his head up to slot their lips together again. Their tongues slide over each other, and Nya tastes like the lemon soda she drank earlier, bright and bubbling, and the dark cherry of her flavored chapstick.
She moans into his mouth, hands tangled through his hair and tugging. Jay feels his breath hitch everytime she does that, when her nails scratch lightly over his scalp.
Placing one final kiss on her lips, Jay moves on to the corner of her mouth, sucks at the mirth pooling in her dimple. He closes his teeth around the edge of her skull, and trails down to the column of her neck as his fingers unhook her bra. Nya is quick to throw it off.
When Jay moves back in to nip at her throat, Nya coaxes him away with a disapproving hum.
“You can’t leave any marks,” she says. Jay frowns.
“Why not?”
Nya flicks his nose. “I’m not gonna go around covering my neck because you had an itch in your teeth.”
“Well, don’t cover it then,” Jay says petulantly. “Why do you need to anyway?”
She laughs, sharp and abrupt. She doesn’t say anything, but Jay can hear the words laced in the sound.
After all, nobody would want the evidence of their most terrible decisions out in the open.
Jay is careful after that, enough not to leave marks, but he digs his teeth in extra hard, tugs at the skin till she hisses. Her hips have started to rock back and forth, a slow-moving pulse of molten heat on his thigh.
Hands wandering, Jay pulls her closer by the hips, and kneads at the muscles in her ass, her thighs. She moans again, and her hips press down harder.
His lips have reached her chest now, burying his face into the soft flesh there, kissing and nipping lightly. He closes his mouth around a nipple, tongue lapping at the stiff peak before sucking hard. Nya gasps and arches her chest forward, her hand on the back of his head to hold him in place.
Jay sucks noisily at her breasts, pausing sometimes to place gentle kisses around. Her skin tastes like the ocean and summer breeze, bitter from the scented shower gel. He wishes it could be bottled up and made into a drink. That is one addiction he wouldn’t mind.
His hands are on the swell of her ass, encouraging her slow grinding on his thigh. It keeps brushing against him so deliciously, heat licking up his spine in tendrils.
He pulls away from her chest. His spit glistens on her skin under the barest moonlight.
Nya tugs his head up into a bruising kiss, and their mouths move against each other like waves crashing together. She kisses him with such familiarity, like he’s a ghost of years past, like she’s looking for him in the space between, each breath laced with longing that makes his chest ache and sadder than the last.
“Jay,” Nya pulls at his hair. “Jay.”
“What?”
Nya smiles, the slightest thing. “Jay.”
“Nya.” He tries the word. It lays heavy on his tongue, and even heavier on his heart. But the way her eyes sparkle star-bright, he decides his heart can carry that much weight.
He presses a kiss to her collarbone. “Tell me what you want.”
Nya shudders.
“Touch me.”
Jay drags his teeth on the jut of her collarbone, trails his hand down, down, down till he can slide it between her legs.
Warmth coats his fingers immediately, bordering on a burning heat. Sparks burst under his skin at the wetness he finds sticking to her thighs, dripping from the swollen folds.
Nya gasps loudly when his fingers brush against her. He caresses the swollen flesh, revelling in the way she screws her eyes shut and breathes blissfully.
Once he’s satisfied with the lubrication on his fingers, he decides to try dipping a little further. Nya moans.
“Good?” he asks.
She nods, her forehead pressed to his collarbone. “Keep going.”
The tip of a finger slides in almost effortlessly, and then the rest of it slowly pushes in. She’s tensing up now, her knees tight around his hips, her nails digging into his shoulder blades.
“Breathe, baby.” Jay kisses against her bare shoulder. “You have to relax.”
“I am relaxed,” Nya grinds out. But she takes deeper breaths, and with each her chest swells to press against his.
Jay starts moving his hand, slowly and experimentally. He drags it out, then goes back in, and repeats till Nya’s body seems lighter. He adds a second finger.
The way Nya moans his name—it’s like a drug, Jay thinks, and he’s very quickly becoming addicted to it. He uses his two fingers to move in deeper, spreads them apart a little each time to stretch her gently. Nya’s taken to moving her hips back and forth too, and with their combined movements he touches a soft spot that has Nya arching her back.
He brushes it again, and Nya whines. By this point, she’s comfortable enough for a third finger and oh she takes it so well, her legs spread and body squeezing around him so lovingly.
Jay speeds up, and adds a rougher edge to his thrusts. Nya pulls back to hold his face between her hands. She presses their foreheads together, and her eyes are so warm, so achingly in love that Jay almost looks away. He feels like an impostor, as he holds her gaze while fucking her in his lap.
“Jay, please—”
Jay shifts his hand, so her clit is grinding against his palm with every movement. Her muscles tighten up, little by little, and Jay knows he’s about to witness something beautiful.
Her eyes squeeze shut, body shuddering from the euphoria. Such a subtle scene, but to Jay it’s a supernova colliding and bursting and expanding, a tsunami roaring as it crashes over the shore, a storm thundering before it bursts.
The aftershocks of her pleasure roll over her and Jay fucks her through them, only pulling out when her thighs start trembling. He lifts his fingers to his face, seeing them gleam wetly in the light. Curiously, he licks one off.
Her eyes are glazed over as she looks down at him, and her cheeks are scarlet. There’s a soft haze over them that clears up in seconds. She frowns, and Jay prepares himself for a fight.
“What about you?” she asks. Oh.
“Well,” he says. “I prefer to take my time.”
And then he flips her onto the bed, nudges her knees apart. At her confused look, he settles between her legs.
“You taste amazing,” is all he says before getting to work.
A number of orgasms later, they both lay in bed, tired and blissed out. Both of them took turns cleaning up in the bathroom, and now they’re on the one bed they were reluctant to share.
Even now, they are on opposite ends. It’s laughable—you’d think that after literally having sex, they’d be more agreeable to sharing a bed, but Jay and Nya are nothing if not stubborn.
Jay stares up at the ceiling, and counts the lines. The moonlight falls through the blinds in slivers, so it leaves long gashes across the surfaces. He tries not to remember the woman next to him, and how comfortable it’d felt to touch her, to let himself be touched by her.
One of them was bound to break. Finally, Nya sighs. She gets up and pulls one of her hoodies on, along with a pair of shorts.
Just as she’s at the door, Jay realizes she’s leaving.
“Where are you going?”
Nya scowls. “Lloyd.”
“Why?” he says stupidly.
Here, she falters a little, but the scowl is back like it never left.
“I can’t bear to see your face right now,” she says, and slams the door behind herself.
They swear to never let it happen again.
It happens again. And again. And again.
Laying back on the pillows as Nya grinds on top of him, Jay wonders why they ever thought they could stay away. He’s never been this attracted to a person in his life—or whatever he remembers of it—and even before the mind-blowing sex, he was a little too gone for her.
Nya’s hair falls in a dark curtain around her face as she leans forward. Her hands rest on his chest, hips moving over his as he slides in and out of her.
Jay thinks about bright red and forbidden fruits and biting down as he sits up to thrust into her, his teeth closing around her shoulder.
After the fourth time, Nya remains in bed past the five minutes she stays before leaving to sleep somewhere else. She’s curled on her side, back facing him.
Her shoulders are shaking, and with a sick feeling, Jay realizes she might be crying.
“Are you—” he starts. “Are you crying?”
Nya stiffens, and then her hands move to rub at her face. “No.” She sniffles.
“Come on, I can’t be that bad in bed.” His joke falls flat when she cries even more. Shit.
“It’s not that.” Nya mumbles sadly, hands covering her face. It’s like she’s mourning. “Forget it.”
Her crying is quiet, barely audible, but it quivers through her whole form till she’s trembling like a leaf in the wind. Her breaths are short and stilted, all the effort going into keeping quiet instead.
Jay knows what grief looks like—he sees it everyday in the mirror with shadows under his eyes and fragments in his mind, in the faces of all the fruit-colored ninja like it’s twisting their usually bright features into something melancholy. It rests heavy over him, inside him like a lead anchor tearing through flesh and nerve and bone till there’s nothing inside.
He knows grief enough to know what it looks like, what it sounds like. It is nothing if not the way Nya is sobbing into her hands.
It’s rare that Jay regrets any of his actions—there’s no point in regret if it’s all in the past—and this, this isn’t regret, really, but he feels like an asshole. What kind of person sleeps with someone, and then lets them cry in the same bed?
He sighs and extends his arm. “Come here.”
Nya pauses, scrubs over her face before peeking over her shoulder. Her face twists in confusion.
Jay wiggles his fingers. “Come here.” By this point, Nya’s shifted so she’s facing him.
“Are you sure?” she says hesitantly.
“Look,” Jay starts, annoyed. “Even I’m not cruel enough to let someone cry like that, so.”
He jerks his arm toward her for good measure. Nya stares at him, eyes darting around his face. Her decision is quick, and she barrels into him with a familiar quickness.
Her head slots on top of his shoulder perfectly, hands curled just above where his heart beats a quickening thump thump thump.
“Do you even remember,” Nya says quietly, “What we meant to each other?”
Jay groans loudly, “Oh, not this again.” He doesn’t miss the way she flinches.
“It’s always the old Jay this, the old Jay that.” He snaps at her, and then softens once he hears his tone. In an almost pleading voice, he adds. “Isn’t it enough that the me of now is holding you?”
Nya takes a deep, grounding breath. “You’re right,” she whispers. “I just miss you.”
“You need to let him go.” Jay tells her. “He’s not coming back.”
Even with such upsetting reminders, she falls asleep in minutes, curled into his chest. Jay rubs her back and thinks, I’m going to leave her.
He tries to convince himself it won’t hurt.