sameforme | [intro]

[intro]

Fuck South Dakota.

And fuck Gordon for dragging her here. She was done with all of this, she's been done with it for years. More than years. A fucking lifetime.

Diane drains the last of the vodka from the glass and waits for the bartender to fill it up again. She's been hard at it since she woke up this morning, but it's not like there's much else for her to be doing while the others are up to god knows what and she's left in this shitty hotel staring at cowboy kitsch and waiting to be needed again.

She sighs heavily and takes a sip from her newly topped up glass, tapping her fingernails along the rim.

Sleep hasn't exactly been easy to come by since Gordon and Albert dragged her along on this fucked up field trip. Not since she saw...him. Her brain recoils from the memory and she feels the nauseatingly familiar ice in her veins. All she wants to do is go home and forget it all, but part of her knows how unlikely it is that that will ever happen. That tiny, annoying part of her that never lets her completely delude herself no matter how hard she tries to drown it.

Finishing her drink again, she pushes the glass away and stands up for the first time in what feels like hours. She sways just a bit on her feet and realizes she's probably been at this for longer than she thought.

Checking her phone she sees it. 2:53.

"Jesus," she says under her breath. Definitely longer than she thought. Time for a little fresh air.

She nods at the bartender and grabs her purse, making her way to the bar exit that leads directly out onto the street. She's in absolutely no mood to be dealing with the hotel lobby and the possibility she might run into one of her FBI keepers.

Pushing the door open, she stumbles slightly on the small step down to the sidewalk and drops her pack of cigarettes. When she looks down to retrieve them she sees...sand?

It crunches under her feet as she turns around to find the bar gone. The hotel gone. Her breath comes hard and fast and she begins to shake uncontrollably, her knuckles gone white from her grip on her purse.

"No." She shakes her head and backs away from the spot where the door she'd just exited should have been. "No fucking way. No. Not again. I'm not doing this again."

Diane squeezes her eyes shut and tries to clear her head but it's like all the alarms in the world are going off at once and it would be impossible to think past the noise even if she wasn't completely losing her shit. Even if she was a lot more sober.

With a sob she drops down like her strings have been cut, ass landing hard in the sand next to the cigarettes she'd momentarily forgotten about. She taps one into her violently shaking hand and it takes a few tries before she can manage to get the lighter working, but the first drag helps. Mildly. So she just sits there, smoking, staring out into nothing because what the hell else was she supposed to do. Because she should have known this was how it would end the minute they showed up in her fucking living room asking her to remember all the things she'd never wanted to remember and pulling her right back into all their bullshit. She should have said she wouldn't go. She should have done a lot of things.

"Fuck."

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She thinks that might have actually been a joke which is surprising enough that she can't help but laugh. Maybe not a robot after all.

He also doesn't strike her as the kind of man who gets lost very often. She'd be willing to bet he could find his way out of these woods with a bag over his head and his hands tied behind his back, so she's not overly concerned.

"Have you actually seen any other people?" He hadn't seemed all that surprised to find her on the beach so she just kind of assumed, but she also hadn't seen any real evidence of anyone else, so she figured she might as well ask.

"Of course. There are several who sleep in the dome. Several others have taken shelter in the cottages. One woman, so far as I can tell. And a sly fella who has long hair and puts on his lips. I've been watching them. They seem to do as they please, none mucking about in anyone else's business," he explained as they walked. Not far ahead the trees opened to the shore, and just beyond was the small village.

The Dome. So that's what they're calling it. Makes sense since it's a dome and all, but the name gives it a weird scifi vibe that she's not sure she's emotionally ready to deal with. Not after the day she's already had. She puts it away in the same place with the giant wardrobe full of clothes that fit her, the water lady in a jewel lake, and...well, all the rest of it. Puts it away, and closes the door on it until later. Or never. Too soon to say.

"And where do you stay? Because I can tell you right now, I'm not really the group living type. I even hated it in college and that was --" she stops herself and huffs a quick laugh. "-- let's just say a long time ago and leave it there."

"I sleep in the dome barracks with Spencer and Lyric and a few others," he replied. "A bed is better than the ground. I have not had need to find other shelter, ye ken?"

Twenty yards more and they broke through the trees. Nearby were the cottages, and up to the left stood the dome, menacing with its brutal architecture.

"If you would like your own home, I can show you the empty cottages for the taking," he said, taking her by the hand to lead her to a door. The place was in decent shape, a bit run down from disuse. Inside it was just as cold as out, but there was an iron stove and a pile of wood next to it. Dust clung to every flat surface and there were cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling. A quick look around lead them to an office, a kitchen, the living room, and a bedroom with dust, but mysteriously fresh bedding.

"Barracks are definitely a no," she says in a tone that leaves no room for argument. "I mean it's not like I'm thrilled at the idea of living in a dusty cabin, but it's definitely a step up from barracks."

She takes a look around and wonders at her sanity that she's already thinking of ways to work the whole 'rustic chic' thing. This isn't going to be a home. It can't be. She has a home and she's going to find a way back to it.

It's the shock. It has to be the shock.

When she sees the clean bed she raises an eyebrow and looks at Roland with a half-smile. "Do you think this place is trying to tell us something?"

"Fair shake it is," Roland said with just a huff of a laugh. He shrugged off his overcoat, leaving him in a brocade vest, chambray shirt, and fitted trousers. His guns hung heavy on his hips, the belt fully loaded with extra ammunition hanging low on his trim hips.

He crossed to her then and took up where he'd left off, Bending his neck to meet her mouth in a ferocious kiss. Any other woman he might have been more gentle, but Diane had proven she could weather the storm of passion.

He should have looked ridiculous in that outfit. Somewhere between a cowboy and a Disney prince. But on him? It just works. Like he was born to wear it, nothing fake, definitely not a costume.

That he makes the move this time gets her pulse racing the way she likes. The way she wants. She gets to choose this and she gets to decide and even though sex isn't love and it isn't even friendship, it's something. Something she can live with, as long as it lasts, and then walk away from when it's done. It's safe and it's dangerous at the same time. Familiar danger.

She kisses him back and lets her hands roam across his chest, down his stomach, fingers hovering just above one of the guns. But she doesn't touch.

He tenses against her as he feels her going for his gun. The sandalwood of the grips still give off an aroma, even after all these years. The guns, forged from the steel of Arthur Eld's sword Excalibur and handed down through his line, coming to his father Steven, and then finally to Roland, are almost a physical part of him and he will not have them used against him. He reaches lightning fast and stops her hand where it lays on his hip. He has no reason to trust her, not even her disorientation and fear.

"Let me take them off," he says, gently but firmly. It would do well, he thinks, to keep weapons far away from Diane right now.

She nods but doesn't say anything as he moves away from her. They are strangers to each other and she's already seen him use the weapons more than once. She can't deny she's drawn to the controlled threat of violence, but she doesn't consciously know why and so she lets those thoughts go, the way she always does when things in her mind aren't clear. When she can feel herself heading toward the walled off parts of brain.

She doesn't think she would have touched the guns, but she tends to be full of surprises. Even to herself.

In order to distract herself from the uncomfortable thoughts, and also to keep this going in the right direction, she takes the opportunity to remove her coat and step out of the boots, leaving her in just her green, buttoned sweater and the heavy wool pants she'd found in the dome.

He watched her shed those and he took the time to sit and take off his boots. There was no quick way to undress. He pulled his boots off and one of his feet was a bit misshapen. When he pulled off his woolen sock it became clear why. He was missing his big toe.. With his feet bare, he stood and began to take off his waist coat and shirt.

"It has been many years since I have lain with anyone," he said, feeling it was only fair she knew.

That surprises her, given the way he looks, but she's sure he has his reasons. Everyone does. Including her.

"Don't worry," she replies with a smile. "I'm sure it will all come back to you."

She moves to him at the edge of the bed, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck. She doesn't break eye contact as she straddles him, sitting on his lap, knees either side on the bed, and kisses him again.

Roland's hands moved to hold her ass and he kissed her back. He felt stirrings of pleasure he had long denied. He had no time, nor opportunity. But those urges were still in him and he could easily let himself fall for the pleasure f it all. She was soft and slid, tasting of smoke and sweet. Roland hummed a low, soft approval and began to slide one hand up her back to hold her close.

To her credit, she does wonder what the hell she's doing. No rational human being in her situation would be about to fuck a complete stranger in a dusty cabin in some kind of wooded nightmare hellscape. But what she does know is if she doesn't distract herself somehow she's gonna lose it completely and she's just so tired of losing it.

So instead of screaming at the top of her lungs and not ever stopping, she keeps kissing him. He's warm and solid and he feels real. More real than anything else going on.

Roland kissed her hungrily, spreading his legs to make her slide closer. Breath came in gasps between hungry swipes of tongue. He could hear her heart, the whisper of her hair as it moved against her neck. The smell of her was overwhelming, making his head spin.

He might not have done this for a while, but he must have natural talent because he knows exactly what he's doing. At least so far.

But now she wants hands on her skin so she starts unbuttoning her sweater with one hand, the other still holding on to the back of his neck. No need to break the kiss.

The very second her sweater fell open, Roland dragged rough hands over her bare skin. Up her sides, over the soft lace of her bra, across her shoulders. His hands pushed her sweater off her arms, leaving her bare in the chill air of the cottage.

Long ago Susan had stood in the window and had let her her hair down and Roland had felt his Ka twine with hers. There was no Ka here, only humanity, only need. He could feel Diane's need, could taste her fear of being in this strange land, apart from all she'd known where monsters came with faces she was familiar with. In here, in the dark, dusty quiet, Roland could keep those fears at bay.

Hand on his chest, she urges him back, wants them down on the bed. Wants him on top of her, really. She's hoping he knows he doesn't have to be gentle, but she'll have no problem making it clear if he doesn't.

"I want to touch you," she whispers against his lips. Breaking the kiss just long enough to speak. His mouth is addictive in a way she hadn't expected and he tastes even better than he looks which is really saying something because he looking like a friggin work of art. If he really is her angel, she must have done a lot more right than she would have thought.

"Touch all you please," Roland replied, falling back and looking up at her. Her fingers were delicate and soft, not the hands of anyone who had to bust sod to make a living. Even Seer's hands were rough from labor. Roland hadn't had such a gentle touch since he was a boy.

His mother had soft hands, not that he recalled much about her now after all these long years.

She smirks down at him as she wiggles her hips and grinds herself against him, settling into a more comfortable position. Then she sets to undoing the buttons of his shirt and pushing the fabric aside so she can finally get to some bare skin.

Diane has been with plenty of muscular men before. Athletes, gym addicts, a few of those twenty-something vain boys who are in love with their own reflections. Roland's body is altogether different. These are muscles he didn't get in any gym. They aren't the kind of muscles you get for the sake of appearance and they feel different under her hands. It's ridiculously arousing and it makes her wonder just how strong he actually is. The thought sends an electric spark down her spine.

His arousal is a hard ridge straining against his fly. Her hands glide over his skin, a gentle touch that sparks life within him. Roland's own hands trace the shape of her body above him.

Then fast as lightning he lifts, turns, and presses her down onto the bed, hovering just above her. He peels off his shirt and lets it fall by the way, then sets about mapping every inch of her bare body with is hungry mouth.

God yes.

This is exactly what she's been waiting for and he's delivering in spades. She wants to forget everything and just be in this one moment. She wants to be completely in her body and completely out of her head. It's not unusual for her to want that, she tends to spend as much time as possible out of her head. But the need is particularly strong right now.

She gasps when her back hits the mattress and arches up a little bit to urge him on. To encourage him. Diane's not shy when it comes to this and she's happy to make it clear when she's getting what she wants. Closing her eyes and sighing with pleasure, she runs her nails lightly across his back.

Roland hooks the edge of her bra and pulls the cup off her breast. Nipple exposed, he ducks to catch it, suckling and worrying it between his lips. She is a fine woman, the sort the boys used to mock when they were in training. No hard life here on her body. But Roland knew that there had been much difficulty in her head. He thought she may even be mad, but that didn't stop him now. Not when he had her willing body, her grasping hands, and the scent of her sex burning hot in his brain.

It's all heat and instinct now and she hooks one leg around the back of his thigh, grinding herself up against him. Digging her nails a bit harder into his shoulder blades, testing his reaction. She only ever wants to give her lovers what they like and she expects the same in return. She may not be able to give them her emotions, but she can always give them pleasure. She thinks that's probably more desirable in the long run anyway.

She moans softly when he gets his mouth on her tits, and he's not gentle about it which is a major plus. "Perfect," she sighs. "Just like that."

Roland worked his fingers into her hair, gripping tight to pull her head back. His mouth moved up her neck, carving a hot trail all the way to her mouth where he could kiss her again. His hips rocked forward, rubbing against her to bring her pleasure. The way she rocked against him, pulling with her leg and opening to him, it mattered not there were still clothes in the way. He knew with pressure alone he could undo her...at least for the first time.

She smiles and makes a sound that starts as a laugh but ends up closer to a moan. The sting of her scalp makes every other sensation that much sharper and she can almost forget where they are - where they aren't - and that's everything she wanted from this.

When he get a rhythm she realizes what he wants to do and she's here for it. Both hands on his ass she squeezes and moves against him, matching his movements, letting herself get carried away.

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