I know you well enough to know you never loved me.

[labyrinthos]

[Believe it or not, even Nagisa Kaworu has limits as to what he's willing to put up with.

It's been a long day. An inordinately long day. WILLE's latest border skirmish with NERV went as well as could be expected--after all, they have the First Angel on their side. Kaworu hardly needed to lift a finger to annihilate each enemy combatant with his A.T. Field, but they just kept coming and it ended up becoming a meat grinder for multiple hours. His nerves feel as stretched and frayed as a torn ribbon. He would do anything for Shinji-kun, up to and including taking human lives, but that doesn't make it any easier on him.

Worst of all, in spite of their success, the day's efforts weren't good enough for Shikinami. Right now he's staring at Shikinami, his mouth a stark line, displaying none of his usual benevolence whenever she chooses to censure him. He ignored explicit orders on battlefield positioning, or something. He isn't paying attention anymore; her words have blended together into a grating, droning hum. Shouldn't it be enough that they decimated NERV's fighters? It should be enough...

It's been a long day, and a longer cycle, and an even longer stretch of cycles in which all he's done is fail over and over and over again with what truly matters.]

Hey, Shikinami-san...

[He blinks once, twice, then looks down the lithe length of her body. It's been a while. It's been a while, he thinks, swallowing hard, unsure of why he's suddenly feeling this particular urge. The last time he touched Shikinami like he's thinking was hundreds of cycles ago. And yet, relying on instinct alone, he leans in and interrupts her by kissing her on the mouth. It's been a long day and probably this is the most efficient way to relax. The consequences don't occur to him.]

Comments

[labyrinthos]

[Kaworu doesn't even think to fight the removal of his shirt. The flirtatious smile on his face is hidden with the fabric rushing upward, and he lifts his arms high overhead, equally thin but twice as limber. The smooth white expanse of his stomach and chest comes into view. He possesses some muscle definition, albeit not enough to explain his strength--it's the same for Shikinami, isn't it? They're the same in that much. It's a comfort to have so much in common with her. (Curiously, he has a belly button like any other human.) (Almost too mundane for a disastrous creature like him.)

He notices there's a cold draft in her room, but that won't matter once they've relocated to the bed.]

I'm expecting nothing less from you, [he says, lowering his arms again.] Your critiques never fail to inspire me as a pilot, you know. Any improvements on my end can be traced back to them. [Almost immediately, he's feeling around her hips to the curve of her ass, undeveloped though it is. Teenage stamina is more important than shapely assets, of course. Kaworu would prefer to have this embrace last and last... and last. It's to his benefit, he thinks, cupping each cheek in each hand, that she has more to rely on than Lilin strength. He hopes that she'll start to see the advantages to her new nature...

Sex is definitely more satisfying than lonely masturbation. It's been a while since he has last touched himself, and now that he's paying attention to his groin, he discovers just how heavy and insistent it is. He doesn't want to rush her into this, not exactly, but he rolls his hips forward to prod her in the direction of her blankets. It's one part primeval, two parts romantic, the way he's touching her and looking her over.

The black eyepatch is an unwelcome divide, coated in hex glyphs, but he doesn't reach for it yet. That will come later. That will come when he wants to drive himself a little more wild. Just seeing how far she has progressed is its own version of foreplay.]

Hey. [Another step, another push.] If you have questions of your own, you shouldn't hesitate to ask them.

[interstices]

[Any improvements? There aren't any improvements to be made on his end. He's absolutely, excruciatingly flawless. If anything, his disobeying her orders had led to a quicker, better outcome on the battlefield today. Even a bloodbath looks like ballet when he's piloting. It makes her want to vomit each time she spares his skills a thought. Her expression sinks into its usual grimace. She's never, ever been one to hang onto praise she hasn't earned.]

[And she's earned precisely zero in the last few years. Her list of notable achievements has been in the same stasis as her body. Nothing meaningful, nothing worth reaching for. She thinks sometimes of those soldiers over a century ago, the photos of them in psychology textbooks, how as every war passed the name for what they went through got longer and longer, from shellshock to battle fatigue to post-traumatic stress disorder. She doesn't equate herself with them, not remotely. If they lost it, really lost it, they had the luxury of going back home. She's got nowhere but this sorry little room to bury herself in.]

[The plugsuits leave little to the imagination on how he's built, but she's still interested when he pulls off his shirt, feeling around his chest with that same bizarre, removed curiosity that she'd had when she'd squeezed his arm. Almost the same kind of scrutiny she gets during lab tests with Dr. Akagi, except the tight line of Asuka's mouth conveys more than scientific interest. He feels okay. Warm. Clean. And while he's groping her, Asuka's got something to distract herself with. He's not fumbling around like she'd hoped, not awkward in the slightest as he touches her, her own thighs twitching as she squeezes them together in compact little movements. His clothed hard-on pressing against her bare body as he pushes her back doesn't bother her the way she'd expected it to. At least it's an indication somebody wants her.]

[He's guiding her straight to the bed, and worse, she's letting him. Every step backwards feels like giving in. Her bare toes curl against the carpet as if she's trying to root herself there, but she isn't, really. She's thinking she'd rather just do it against the wall, with none of the stupid pretenses a bed entails, but the thought of a first time like that feels decidedly worse, like a bad porno. No. The bed will do.]

[It would do better if she didn't stumble slightly on the way, half-thanks to her own unwillingness to pull apart long enough to get onto the bed, but she muffles her embarrassment by jerking him forward by both shoulders. Her back hits the familiar sterile blankets, and immediately she tries to roll him over, raising a knee to help her leverage, in case he doesn't want to go down so easily.]

[She could ask him a lot, but every question burns on its way to her throat. What are you has an idiotic answer already. What are you like is closer, but far worse. Asuka's tongue runs across the back of her teeth before she finally responds.]

I want to know what you're capable of.

[labyrinthos]

[There's more to piloting Eva than just controlling Eva in every sense of the word. Piloting is effortless for Kaworu, which is precisely why Shikinami's efforts serve to inspire him. She has been doing this for years and years, more than two decades now, and she still has the room to make improvements. It's a beautiful thing. Her humanity has waned, but she still changes and develops the same as they do. He has wanted to put that much effort into something and have it be profitable. He has tried to emulate her commitment, even when he's ignoring her orders. Paying more attention to battlefield conditions, for one thing. Analyzing what's in front of him logically, rather than listening to his instincts. Not just relying on his A.T. Field to brute force everything...

Maybe, eventually, a well-developed sense of reasoning will help him to defeat Commander Ikari in battle.

Eventually.

But he still has the cruel luxury of time on his side, allowing him to think about other things for now. He's always thinking about his Ikari Shinji-kun, but he's also thinking about how smooth her thighs feel when meeting the softly sculpted slope of her ass. He's also thinking about the meager creak of the springs when they land on top of the bed, and the rustle-rush of fabric along fabric as she flips him over. Not putting up much of a fight, he submits to her whims. He stretches out on his back, his legs extended, toes curling, with his hands settled around her hips. He smiles up at her as though he's winning the lottery--no, it's more life-changing than that. He has the smile of one of those soldiers, from one of the old photographs, just after hearing the war is finally over.]

What I'm capable of...

[She could scratch his skin and it would heal. She could rip him open and he would survive. She could strike him repeatedly with a Prog knife and that would hardly chip his core, much less crack it open. The amount of power it would take to invite the rainbow and tide of blood is far beyond her abilities.

His patience is legendary. His understanding is vast. His good will is greater than any human being might claim to have. His appearance is flawless and his voice is low and insistent, the kind of voice that intrudes but apologizes for it. Anyone who's met him, even those who despise him, will never be able to ever forget him.]

I can be honest with you.

[WILLE operates under a permanent veil of secrecy, keeping even the top pilots in the dark about things. Shikinami can't claim to be an exception--if anything, they're hiding more from her than they are from most crewmen. They probably think she's a little unstable and unreliable... psychological contamination, and all. But Kaworu wouldn't lie to her about anything. All she has to do is start asking the right questions.]

I can help you to find joy in the small, quiet places that you may have overlooked.

[Even if that just means having sex, and more sex, and more sex after that. She's a stunning creature, whether or not she's Lilin; he would like to love her if only a little. He's trying to love her now with the slow, sinuous shift of his hips, pushing his covered erection up and against her.

He's almost laughing with pleasure when he asks,] You believe what I'm saying, don't you? Shikinami-san...

[interstices]

No.

[She's grunting, trying to remember how to keep her words clear and cold, how to keep her rage in check and mind in order. Pleasure's making that too hard. It's better than masturbation, even when it's Kaworu beneath her.]

That's not--

[Asuka cuts herself off to keep him from intruding, demanding an answer. She doesn't want happiness. She doesn't want anything he could give her. Every gift, every compliment, gets scrutinized for imperfections and thrown aside. She learned a long time ago never to trust an adult about anything, and though Kaworu's no adult, he's making the promises of one like a politician gunning for reelection. He can't give her anything she's already refused.]

[No, what she wants is the answers nobody on the ship knows or else just wants to give her. She can understand the facsimile of the woman that's still, to Asuka, Colonel Katsuragi, but she can't understand anyone else. She never knew what game was really being played, and never cared much back when she was really fourteen and not every door was barred to her, back when she wasn't just another creepy relic on board, but a cute, stupid kid. She already knows exactly what's happened to her and continuing to happen to her in increment after increment. There's no way out of it. There's just the attempt at assigning it meaning.]

[The mismatch of their discarded clothes reminds her of just how futile an attempt this whole tryst probably is. Grunting, grumbling, she tries to correct that, except for all that she's piloted Eva since practically childhood, she can't summon up the will to unbutton his pants and yank down his boxers.]

[It's not that she's afraid, not exactly. It's that it makes it irrevocable. Asuka had imagined first times in a reluctant sort of way, with some put-upon, lousy dark-haired boyfriend she'd shoved into the ordeal and mocked the whole way through, but she's silent now except for ratchety gasps as he rubs up against her. When he moves, she sees clear fluid in streaks on the outside of his pants, and knows-- feels, really-- it's hers. She's wet. She's actually getting wet.]

[Her first time wasn't supposed to involve a barren room or an Angel, but she decides she can't abide losing her virginity while her top's still on. The thought makes a glint form in her eyes and a near-smile flash on her face for the tiniest of seconds before she presses her arm against his shoulder in a signal to stop bucking his hips and yanks both her blouse and bra off, out of their way. Her next words are just a demand.]

Take off your pants.