Who: Lidia and Gus. When: October 21st, Midday. Where: 103 Orchid Road. Rating: NSFW. Summary: Lidia and Gus exchange conspiracy theories and consummate their marriage. Warnings: Consummation is involved.
Day five of being legally and obligationally married, and Lidia still hadn’t let it completely sink in, despite how her routine had changed to accommodate her new lifestyle, just as he’d changed his. The hard-core introductory ‘hello’ session she’d given him before they were pumped full of hormones (like feedlot cattle) had worked to her design: that being, Gus was sweet to her. Kind, and yielding. He did what she asked and attentively picked up on non-verbal cues when she wanted her own space (which was more often than not).
All in all, it wasn’t a terrible arrangement. They didn’t really see each other that often, since she worked late and he worked early. Besides the mutual time in the large bed--in which they didn’t touch each other--it was just like the ‘roommate’ ideal they were going for.
Then, Gus was switched to the night shift, and they were going to be spending a lot more down-time together. Lidia’s natural suspicion automatically centered on the motives for the change. She went to sleep the night before with the thought of searching the house for cameras when she woke up.
However, the first and only thing she could concentrate on when sleep finally melted away the next afternoon was the fact that she wasn’t alone in the bed.
Lidia’s eyes opened, her vision blurred by a streak of yellow hair across them, but beyond it was Gus’s now very familiar face.
Gus had been waiting for the schedule change to come, and sure enough, during one of his ‘check-ups’ that took place in the security building and not the medical center, he was informed that he was now on night shift. It was more than a little unsettling, just how far they seemed willing to go with this stuff. Wasn’t it enough that they were matching people solely on the strength of their genetic compatibility? And how did they know he and Lidia hadn’t been making any moves now that they were living together?
Did they know about the night they’d spent together before it had all been notarized and filed?
It was paranoid thinking that he kept to himself, and it at least didn’t keep him up at night. He stirred a short while after Lidia did, stretching and splaying his arms out - and whacking Lidia in the process.
“Oh, shit, jeez, sorry,” he muttered, unable to help the reaction most people had to whacking someone - gingerly stroking the spot they’d whacked, like somehow it helped, “Are you okay?”
Good morning.
Barely a minute of consciousness and the back of a hand knocked stars into her eyes when it connected to that perfect sensitive spot on the bridge of her nose. Lidia recoiled with a garbled noise, shoving away his attempt to make it better. "ублюдок--!" she snarled into the back of her own hand. That little flare of angry-red behind her eyes lingered, though faded, so long as the tingling started to normalize.
He cringed when she batted his hand away, hunching his shoulders a little, but mostly he was fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it. Really, first thing in the morning? A bop on the nose? What a great start to a suspiciously new routine.
“I really am sorry,” Gus said, “Do you uh,” he scratched his chest, smiling crookedly at her and pausing to yawn, “Do you want pancakes or something? I make a mean pancakes and bacon.”
It was the least he could do. A peace offering, both for the switcharoo and the early-morning pain.
Lidia was still on her back trying to banish the sparks in her vision. "Я должен бросить горячий жир на вас..." she muttered under her own breath, making her way out of the covers and off her side of the bed. A sniff later, she wrinkled her nose and looked over her shoulder at him, adjusting the waist of the pale blue cotton panties she was wearing. Her expression wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t exactly warm. Not at first, anyway.
“If you want.” A smile finally pulled at her lips, though they were closed. She turned her back to him, gathering her hair in a high ponytail on her way to the bathroom. “So long as you stop trying to pick a fight.” That part was sarcastic and dry as a martini.
Gus laughed at that and ruffled his own hair, looking sheepish, “Yeah, fair enough. See you downstairs.”
Watching her prance around in her underthings was just a part of his life he was wearily coming to accept. Forcing him to look at it even more seemed like cruel and unusual punishment, but there were worse things Like whacking said gorgeous woman in the face first thing in the morning. At least it hadn’t been too hard. The last thing he needed was some kind of investigation for domestic abuse.
With that awful thought in mind, he got up and busily made a mess in the kitchen, and soon their shared living space was filled with the smells of pancakes, bacon, and he’d scrambled up some eggs for good measure. He didn’t usually make a habit of cooking - his repertoire was very small - but it usually impressed girlfriends when he made them breakfast.
He was still in the shorts he’d gone to sleep in and his hair was still pointing in crazy directions when she finally came down, but there was a decent spread laid out, and he was finishing up the last of the bacon, humming tunelessly to himself.
Lidia had spent most of the last half hour scouring the bathroom and bedroom for hidden cameras; unfortunately, besides the handful of movies she’d seen and the bulky security cameras she knew from the clubs in Moscow, she really had no idea exactly what she was looking for. This place had a leg-up on technology over the entire world; for all she knew, the damn bathroom mirror was an electronic peep-hole; a viewing window into the cage they’d been put in together.
How any air-headed, hopeful soul could find anything about this place romantic was completely beyond her.
By the time she wandered down to the kitchen, she couldn’t help the cynical smirk on her lips. Gus was buzzing around the kitchen like Martha Stewart with a faux-hawk (and possibly steroids); dumb and happy was her first thought, though she didn’t think him an imbecile. Nor did she think he was necessarily happy.
Still in the tank top and panties, Lidia padded on bare feet around the kitchen table, looking up at the high corners in the room. Nothing there.
“I think they are watching us.” Might as well push the subject now. It wasn’t going to go away.
Gus offered her one of his usual easy smiles when he saw her come in, raising an eyebrow when she started peering around. Her statement didn’t appear to alarm him, however. If anything, he tightened his jaw and nodded, shifting the bacon onto a plate and joining her at the kitchen table.
“Yeah,” he said, “That’s a given. They, uh. They’ve got quite a thing going on here, you know?”
The topic wasn’t effecting his appetite, and he shifted some of the feast he’d laid out onto his own plate. He waggled a piece of bacon around at the kitchen in general.
“If you ask me, the bugs are in the big major appliances and stuff,” hey, if they were being recorded, oh well, “I’d check, but I have to sign my tools in and out every shift. Which they switched pretty quick to match yours.”
He raised his eyebrows, sort of... glad he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t super impressed with the place. Well, the place itself was nicer than any place he’d ever lived, but... just the whole community in general.
“Considering I didn’t even get a trial before they gave me my ‘choice’,” he said, lowering his voice just a little, “I’m not super surprised. Kinda of unnerving though, right?”
Lidia was quiet for a moment, unable to keep from looking at the refrigerator, the oven, and even the coffee maker like they were staring back at her. She wasn’t a creature that was unnerved by much; an exhibitionist by design and second nature, being watched had been part of her life for a long, long time. What bothered was the undertones of secrecy, folded in the exalted ‘family values’ everyone and their mother liked to preach around here.
“Agreed.” Honest, her response, as she brought her eyes back to him. Though her agreement was genuine, her face exhibited little more; a tell her brother always knew. Lidia was weighing options, trying to pick a path.
Gus only saw what he usually saw - the closed off ice sculpture that was his pretend-wife. Well, it was official and all, but considering everything else? It all felt like it was part of some kind of script. He had never been especially good with scripts and orders.
“Well, we know their motives for making us spend more time together,” he said blandly, “Don’t let it ruin your appetite, though.”
He honestly didn’t mind Lidia, even if she was frigid at times, and vaguely frightening others. When she relented, even if she was pretending to relent, and smiled a little, he felt like she at least found him tolerable. More fuck buddy material than wife material, but hey. He hadn’t paired them up.
“Not much we can do about it,” he continued, pouring some coffee for the both of them and steadily devouring his breakfast, “I guess we’ll find out how extreme they get. Forced vacation time. Locking us inside the house. Mind control drugs in the water.”
Gus had only said that last one as a joke, but he still eyed his coffee suspiciously before he drank it.
She watched him as he spoke and ate, surprised at the odd comfort that their similar wavelength offered. At least neither one of them were delusional. That didn’t help the hard-line of reality, however.
Lidia picked up a piece of bacon and bit off the end, watching it as she chewed...like it would have an answer.
“What do you suppose we do?” Her voice was lower, as if she was keeping it between them. It was a natural reaction to the conversation.
“I dunno,” he lowered his voice as well, reacting to her and wiping one hand over his head, mussing his already untamed hair. A pensive frown overtook his face, and he looked at Lidia with an apologetic expression, “Feels sort of like the mousetrap already snapped, to be honest. I sure as hell can’t go anywhere. Maybe you and...”
Gus looked around uncomfortably, but shit, what were they going to do? Toss them out? That’d sort of be a favour, right? Or maybe not. He didn’t know. This place was definitely messing with his head.
“Maybe you and your brother might be able to back out,” he said, “Is Russia still an option for you two?”
His expression said that he didn’t think so, but he was asking anyway. Gus was sort of over getting sideways non-answers from her, and while he didn’t expect that to change, he wasn’t going to avoid asking questions.
Her head shook faintly in silent answer, the curled ends of her ponytail tickling between her shoulder blades. Lidia’s eyes went back to scanning the wide walls and angles of the kitchen.
She put the rest of the strip of bacon back on the communal plate and rested her chin in her hand, drumming her cheek lightly. The sigh that followed lingered, taking it’s time until all of the air was out of her lungs.
“Where I come from, is best to give the bosses what they want.” She met his eyes, and arched her brows. “Or make them think that.”
Gus felt very much like a bug on a pin for a moment, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and taking a bracing swallow of coffee.
“I’m not going to pretend like doing everything but would be a chore,” Gus said, unable to help but think back to their ‘first date’ night. He only barely managed to suppress smile, “I guess we could probably get away with that for awhile. Unless, uh,” he laughed and shrugged, “You meant something completely non-sexual.”
He smirked and gestured at her with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused, “You’ll have to excuse me for having my mind in the gutter twenty-four hours a day. I’m only human.”
Despite the undertones of the subject, Lidia couldn’t help the way her smirk suddenly matched his. It stayed like that for a moment before she glanced away to no particular place. “So sorry for torturing you,” she said flatly, but her tone wasn’t cold.
“No apologies necessary,” Gus said, leaning back in his seat, “There are worse fates.”
He shifted his jaw, scratched at his stubble, and peered at her.
“You know, in this instance, Lidia? A direct answer would be pretty handy,” he said, “You might not’ve noticed, but your government assigned husband is not a super subtle dude.”
She snorted, grabbing up her original piece of bacon.
“They want us to fuck like rabbits, maybe we should.” She braced on her elbows and pinned him down with her stare, taking another bite. Lidia bounced her brows up high, gesturing at him with the fried meat. “That subtle enough?”
Gus was very still for a moment, and then in slow motion, unable to break her gaze, he took a sip of his coffee. The mug was empty, but he left it at his lips anyway before setting it down very, very carefully.
“Don’t tease me about this,” he said, “Please?”
If she was serious, serum be damned, the kitchen table would be the first thing they fucked on. There was no way it worked that quickly anyway, right? It all made perfect sense in his head right now, especially with his bloodflow redirecting away from his brain.
The atmosphere practically crackled with the change in him; Lidia swore she could see the gear change behind his eyes, and though it wasn’t unexpected, she had to admit a certain level of surprise. Not that she showed it, of course.
The idea of going wild (quite literally) with him certainly wasn’t an unpleasant one, save for the definitely undesired ultimate result. Her stewing paranoia was starting to go places that promised much more drastic measures by the Government than aligning their work schedules. She was willing to risk it if seemingly complying to the whole ‘plan’ staved that away.
Lidia put the bacon back down, rubbing the slick of grease between her fingertips to help ignore the odd tightness in her stomach; nerves that hadn’t really been there before. She lifted her eyes back to his face, which still looked intense as she’d seen, so far.
“No teasing,” she assured him in the same level voice.
From the day he’d showed up at this damned community, he’d been internally conflicted, lost, and just generally confused. In a way, it helped him out now, because really, what else did he have to think about that he hadn’t already? He was still about three seconds before he was up out of his seat and pulling her up out of hers, physically lifting her up against him, making room for her on the table with a clatter, and setting her down on it. He’d learned on date night that she sort of had a thing about being kissed on the mouth, and right now it was all goddamn business, no screw-ups. Or was it all pleasure...? Who fucking cared?
He hooked a thumb into the elastic of his shorts to pull them down enough to free himself, and switched to pulling at hers, his breathing already heavy with anticipation. Gus had wanted her so badly for days, and to have her just offer herself up like that - fuck, he wasn’t an idiot. Not that big an idiot, anyway.
So much for the hard-cooked breakfast, now a spray of food and plates on the hardwood floor, plates still spinning as the table jerked when he set her on it. On instinct and the need for balance, Lidia’s hands slapped down, flattened on the tabletop behind her hips as they shifted under the tug and pull of the fabric there. There was barely enough time for the gasp that stuck in her throat or a barely-suppressed widened look; he’d definitely caught her by surprise--not by the act itself, but by the fervor he had apparently been holding back.
At least she had seen it coming. Enthusiasm was a big fucking plus, but god help him if he pulled this when she wasn’t looking.
Once he had her panties past her ankles, he flung them casually over his shoulder, letting them fall somewhere, forgotten and unneeded for the time being. With that obstacle out of the way his mouth went to the shell of her ear and downwards, worshiping her jaw and her throat. One hand reached behind her and (gently) slid out the tie holding her hair into place, letting it tumble around her in a glorious golden corona.
Gus sucked in a breath for a moment - she was so fucking heart-stoppingly beautiful - and moved in close again, kissing her neck since he didn’t want a minor hanging up ballsing up the moment. Slipping into her was familiar after their last lengthy and rigorous encounter, but he still couldn’t help an audible sigh and a shiver as he did so.
He grabbed her thighs solidly - he didn’t have time for much groping right now given his urgency, and her tank-top was left intact - and took advantage of the considerable leverage he had, taking great pleasure at making the table protest each thrust.
“Do you have any idea,” he grunted, his voice low and husky, “How fucking sexy you are?”
She did.
It was surprisingly easy, at least for Gus, to put the entire situation out of his mind. Maybe it was a male talent, the ability to cease thinking, but he was in possession of it no matter where it was sourced. Not until some time later - they had never made it upstairs - as they were draped on the couch and recovering, that Gus’s brain started up again. Sort of. He couldn’t help but wonder if they’d be able to call off work, he was betting they would be perfectly fine with it, but he still didn’t want to presume too much. While he didn’t think she was faking her enjoyment, she was a woman, and likely didn’t have a libido as supercharged as his.
Don’t be greedy, he cautioned himself. He could definitely live in this sort of fugue state for as long as necessary, though. At some point they’d get tipped off the ride, but for now? He was perfectly happy to pretend it was like any other temporary living arrangement he’d ever had with a stripper.
They always, inevitably, had a nicer place than he did, so the fiction was believable.
Grinning lazily, he couldn’t help a little affection - it wasn’t an attempt to spark romance, just a further symbol of his appreciation. He stroked her hair, gently, and kissed the crown of her head.
“You’re some kinda badass,” he murmured, clearly meaning it as a compliment.
The couch was easily the most comfortable piece of furniture they had defiled that morning; it’s suede cushion was much less invasive digging into her gut than the kitchen counter ledge, even if her knees were a little friction warm. She could feel him still panting, not just into her hair, but against the wing-tips of her shoulder blades. The majority of everything else was still tingly-numb.
Lidia propped herself up on her elbows, sweeping sweat-curled hair back from her eyes. A satisfied - slightly smug - grin shot to him over her shoulder, and she arched a brow. “What does this mean?”
He blinked at her, surprised she didn’t know, but then admonished himself - at some point, it might behoove him to learn a little Russian, considering she spoke English pretty damn fluently. In his opinion, anyway. He dug the way she practically purred her words, and how angry her own language usually sounded... probably because she only really snapped at him in Russian.
“Just that you’re, uh,” Gus made a face, willing his brain to start firing on a few more cylinders, “You’re an ass kicker. You’re tough. Tougher than me, anyway.”
Gus grinned at her, a touch sheepish, “Was that any help at all?”
Lidia’s expression didn’t change much, save for a subtle flash of something in her eyes. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t the sort of pride that usually came with compliments. Fast as it had come, it faded when she dropped her eyes with a deeper-tilted smile, purposefully flushing her hips back against him.
“What would make you say this, eh?” she asked at the same time.
He actually grimaced when she moved her hips, laughing ruefully.
“Well the fact that my ass is completely kicked right now is pretty good evidence,” Gus said, actually managing to play her game, though purely on accident. He wasn’t going to get serious when she was doing that, “All that bear wrestling’s really paid off.”
“Yes--very much,” she agreed in the hushed version of his tone. A thin ribbon of her own laughter snuck into her voice. “I suppose some might call you the bear.”
“Teddy bear, maybe,” he quipped, “Or was that another subtle Lidia-ism that I need to shave more body hair?”
He draped his arms around her, finding it more comfortable than just leaving them to flop at his sides, and raised his eyebrows at her. She just raised one of hers back.
It may’ve looked as though she was challenging him with silence for the answer, but in truth she was obsessing over the unfamiliar adage to her name. Lidia-ism? That had to be something he made up.
As for the shaving... “So long as you do not smell, I am happy.”
Gus couldn’t help the briefly sardonic smirk on his face, hearing the word happy. Happy, at least, relating to her. He was a pretty easy guy to keep happy, but her? Somehow he imagined this whole situation didn’t quite cut it - it just came back to her being a badass. Making the most of things.
“I have been well-trained by the women before you not to smell,” he assured her, “Hey, while I’ve got you trapped,” Gus gave her a very brief squeeze, “What’s that tattoo about? Behind your right ear. Looks like a Roman numeral.”
Was she going to dodge this one, too? It was kind of an amusing game - if he didn’t make it into one, he knew he’d probably start getting frustrated instead.
The squeeze pushed a little more air out of her breath than was natural, and she made it up with a deeper inhale, which turned into an involuntary yawn. She ran with it, flexing into a stretch on her knees against the cushion on which she was pinned.
“It is Roman Numeral,” she sighed languidly, draping back against one broad shoulder, like she was comfortable as ever. “All the Secret Tzar’s wives were numbered--did I not tell you?”
“Nah, don’t think you did,” he said, smiling to himself. He’d dated enough women to know about the goofy Zodiac stuff, but all right. He’d also dated strippers who only let him call them by their stage names.
Why someone would rather be called ‘Rocket’ than their real name was a mystery he would take with him to his grave.
“I’m gonna shower before I start to stink,” he yawned into her hair and shook his head, “Lemme up, wouldya? Ándale.”
He opened his arms and patted her hip, although he would have much rather taken a nap than gotten up, all things told.