A pebble stacked on many pebbles (explicit) (knix)

01 July 2024

"Okay," Knight finally said, near laughing, dropping all the struggle, only craning his head back to try and meet Six's eye over his shoulder, "okay, I yield, come on."

The game was that whoever won the match got to take charge, which Six only really knew because of the few times he'd intentionally lost, just to give Knight the chance - but Knight threw himself into losing each other time with such enthusiasm that Six had started to suspect that he was doing it on purpose, too, if it weren't for how he always closed out the night promising to 'get Six's ass' the next go around. At least this time he'd been patient enough to wait for Six to take his boots and gloves and weapons off at the door, and then kick off his own when he'd been given a pointed look, before trying to tackle Six to the ground. Six could focus on more important things, then. He kept one hand cinched around Knight's wrists, just to give him something to tug against, and sat back onto Knight's thighs, unlatching his belt with his free hand. The game was a farce, but as winner, he did get to take his prize.

They'd done well today. Six threw his belt aside, onto the second untouched bed, and smoothed his hand over Knight's back. By now, handling these entities had become routine for them, understandable patterns of containment and execution, and their assignment today had wrapped up quick and neat. They had the night to themselves, stretched out long ahead of them; Six could take as much time as he liked. He pulled Knight's shirt out from its tuck just to get a hand on his broad back, skin on skin, palm rough over the ripple of muscles. He slid it down Knight's side, over the narrowing of his waist, feeling Knight twitch and arch up to make room. Six pulled his hand away.

"You want it already," he commented, squeezing his grip on White Knight's wrists. Knight huffed a breath, jerking his shoulders at a last try for freedom.

"You're not gonna get very far just sitting on me." Knight flexed his hands. Six finally let them go, but he shifted to plant a knee in the center of Knight's back, back foot hooked around his thighs. If White Knight wanted, he could get out of the hold. If he wanted. Six watched Knight consider it while he found the zipper on his vest, folding it before he tossed it onto the other bed.

Six stayed there a little longer, just to feel his own weight on White Knight's body. To let Knight feel it, the twin points of his knees digging into him, all the advantage of Knight's greater mass made useless here. Knight's hands flexed again, flattening against the bedspread. Six could read the want and the impatience in just that movement, in the shortening of his breaths, even while Six only looked at him. He waited there, his own breath carefully even, until the moment he knew that Knight would start moving again, impatient under Six's stillness, and then he straddled Knight's thighs again, reaching down to haul him up with an arm barred across his thick chest, pulling him up onto his own knees. White Knight grunted, then sucked in a breath when Six tucked a thigh tight between his legs.

"I'll take all the time I want to," Six told him, skimming fingers down over Knight's middle before he unclipped the belt at the bottom of Knight's vest and flicked the zipper open. It was heavy with protective canvas and filled pockets; Six dropped it off the side of the bed to hear White Knight click his tongue with irritation. "We have five hours before we have to report in. You don't think I can take you apart before then?"

Without the vest, Knight just had that Providence-issued undershirt, black and tight to his form. Six followed the ripple of his ribcage up to the swell of his pecs, the shirt thin enough that he could see the peak of Knight's nipples through it. He'd fucked Knight in the shirt before, for novelty's sake, watching it ruck up over his stomach, catching inevitably on his chest. There was something to be said for not quite nudity. Knight had claimed he'd hated it. Sweat right through the damn thing, he'd said, peeling it off afterward, like he wasn't making a show of unwrapping himself. Six tucked a hand thoughtfully under the muscle of Knight's chest, thumbing at his side.

"I think you're playing around back there," Knight said, wetting his lips. He reached back to grab at Six's hip but Six caught him before he could, pulling his arm back up behind him and pushing him forward with it so he had to scramble to catch himself, flat on the mattress again. Knight shouted, or maybe laughed, snatching his hand back away to try and push himself back up, but Six took him by the hips and nudged them up so he could hook his fingers into the waistband of Knight's pants and pull down so hard it jerked him a few inches across the bed. Knight made another noise, a curse under his breath. Six kept his smirk to himself, pulling Knight's pants the rest of the way off his legs, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

He climbed back up over White Knight's body, his thighs bare and his midriff peeking out from under the black shirt that was riding up to his ribcage. "You can complain all you like," Six said, settling with his crotch pressed up to Knight's ass, humming amusement when Knight tilted his hips back up against him. "But every time you do, I'm going to spend another sixty seconds just opening you up. Sound fair?"

It was something Six could do easily. One of his favorite parts of this was taking long minutes with his fingers deep in the soft heat of Knight's ass, spreading him out, listening for his noises to shift from grumbling impatience to forced-out moans. But Knight, needy, cock-hungry -- Six had called him that once to his face and he'd gone red down his neck and chest, but he'd never actually denied it -- could barely stand it. It left him half-hazy and strung out. Knight's hands fisted against the bed. He turned his face against the quilt.

"You're an asshole," he said finally, which Six marked down mentally as one. Six ground down against him with an indulgent rock of his hips before he stood, crossing the room back to the overnight bag that Knight had dropped haphazardly next to the door. He knew somewhere at the bottom of it would be a bottle of lube stashed hopefully away. When he came back with it, Knight had shucked off the shirt and was kneeling up to take off his briefs, looking a little smug for having made such quick work of it, as though being caught with his clothes off and his cock filling against his thigh was him getting a win against Six. Like this Six could take him in: White Knight was built wide and dense, wrapped with muscle, none of Six's lean grace, and it used to set Six's teeth on edge that someone this size had been closer to killing him than anyone else ever had. He should have seen Knight from a hundred paces. But he'd learned the quiet way White Knight could wield his own body if he wanted to, and the blunt instrument he could be, too, and now when Knight turned to grin at him over a shoulder Six's eyes caught on the twist of his waist, the chiseled line of his hip bones, the soft heft of his chest. Besides, Six had also learned that he could throw the man over a shoulder, whether or not Knight was twice his size.

He dropped the lube next to Knight on the bed and eyed him, putting his hands on Knight's hips so that his thumbs could rest high on Knight's ass. "I think this counts as complaining."

"Bullshit." White Knight spread his knees out, leaning his weight forward onto one hand. Six wanted to grab it out from under him and make him sprawl flat on the mattress again, but he eased Knight down instead, onto his knees and elbows. "I didn't even say anything. You're a biased judge."

"Maybe so," Six allowed. He was. This knowledge didn't leave him feeling any less inclined to work Knight open for fifteen minutes straight. He clicked open the lube and poured it out onto his fingers, testing the way it strung between his fingertips. "I'm still giving you an extra minute."

"Jackass," Knight called him, but his voice caught when Six spread him open with a hand on the meat of his ass and smeared lube over him. He always went quiet and concentrated at first, almost inside himself, so Six jolted him out of it by leaning in and spitting down onto his hole for good measure. Knight gave a startled gasp and his cock twitched fitfully. "Fuck's sake, Six -"

"I'll do you a favor and count those both together." Spit and lube dripped down toward Knight's cock; Six caught it with an already-wet thumb. He swiped it over Knight's hole, rubbing at the rim of him, all pink and neat, smooth soft skin. Maybe there was no one else who knew that White Knight kept himself shaved, another private secret that only Six had access to. He slipped the tip of his thumb in, hearing Knight's breath go thin in response. This really was the part he liked most, the call and response of it, sinking his thumb into the slick heat and watching muscles tense all up Knight's back. Six braced a hand on Knight's waist and readjusted, pressing a finger into him, slow but certain, until he was knuckle deep into him. Knight hissed and dropped his head, shifting minutely back against Six's hand. He gave up all his vulnerabilities this way. Six rubbed at Knight's hip while he pumped his finger in, slow waves, thumbing down over his perineum as he worked.

He could just see the muscles in Knight's jaw working from this angle. Six pushed in deep again, took his time pulling back out, dragging against the inside of Knight as he went. He was unbearably soft inside, body-hot and forgiving. Six wet his lips and pulled his finger free, petting just over the entrance, watching it squeeze down tight around nothing.

"You-" White Knight started in, which of course was when Six opened him up with two fingers instead, Knight cutting himself off with a broken groan. He pounded a fist down against the bed. Six supposed he deserved as much. He found himself smiling, twisting his fingers in lazily.

"Go on," he insisted, "I'm listening," even as he crooked his fingers down into the sucking heat of him. Knight's cock jerked and went wet at the tip, a bead of precome bubbling up. Knight took him easily but he was still tight, the vice of him forcing Six's fingers together, knuckles rubbing against his inner walls, clenching down onto him helplessly. Knight had slid down from all fours, resting back on his heels, arms stretched out in front of him, one hand gripping at the edge of the hotel mattress. He was red all down the back of his neck, pale skin heating up with maybe embarrassment, maybe just lust. He started rocking back into Six's hand, meeting him on each patient thrust, noises catching in his throat whenever Six curled his fingers down inside him. This is how Six wanted him, open, needy, no longer playing cocky. Six spit on him again and Knight made a wounded sort of sound.

"You're dripping," Six said, reaching underneath him with his unoccupied hand to swipe at the tip of Knight's cock. It was slickly wet by now, a string of precome leading down to the damp quilt. Knight tensed and swore and his hips shoved forward against the touch, then back to spear himself on Six's fingers all over again. Six rubbed his thumb over the head of Knight's cock, sliding it across the slit. "Is your hole that hungry for it?"

He didn't even care for the talk either way - he could go without and be perfectly happy - but it was easy for him and it made White Knight shiver and moan, shoulders hunching up. "Fuck, Six - if I say yes, will you get on with it --"

"No," Six told him plainly, leaning back to fit a third finger into him, reveling a little in White Knight's punched-out noise. "And that's another minute of this."

He felt he was fairly generous in the end. He only gave Knight those four extra minutes, and actually opening him up didn't take as long as it felt like it did, time sliding past hazy and warped. Still, by the time he was satisfied, Knight was panting open-mouthed against the bed and trembling faintly. He'd gone outside of himself a little, all the complaints dropped away off his lips, malleable under Six's touch. Six could have kept going, tucked his pinky and his thumb into him, used up all the time into the night just widening him out. Next time, maybe. Six was leaking a sticky spot into his own briefs when he finally took his hands off Knight, turning on the bed so he could kick his pants off. The motion, or else the absence of touch, made Knight stir; he glanced back at Six and steadied, coming back up onto his knees.

"Take your shirt off," White Knight said, pretending his voice wasn't already low and rough with use. "I'm getting sick of you fucking me half-dressed like you have somewhere to be afterwards."

Now Knight watched him, all the want written out his face, reaching down to fist his cock as Six undressed. His stare was a little heavy, something like devotion sparking through it. It cracked over Six like waves against the rocks -- nudged him a little close to an unspoken cliff -- not now. He knocked Knight's thighs a little further apart to get between them, slicking himself up against Knight's still-wet opening. White Knight breathed out a pleased sound when Six's cock rested against him, like just the contact was good for him, rolling back to grind up against the hot line of it. Moving like that, Six could track each muscle in his back as it tightened and released, the shape of Knight's spine when it curved. He pressed his cock against Knight's skin. It made the head of it catch on his hole.

"I don't think I know anyone who wants it as bad as you do," Six commented, working a thumb into Knight to hold him open. Knight hissed a gasp, then laughed, looking back over his shoulder, a grin tugging at his mouth.

"You make a habit of fucking your coworkers, partner?"

He didn't. There was just the one. Six needed to stop setting himself up to be cornered into questions he couldn't answer. He held his cock at the root and fit himself into the open space he'd made of Knight's body, unwavering in his slow slide inward, Knight squeezing around him in twitching pulses. White Knight's mouth was dropped open, his hand going still on his own cock, like his attention was turned just on the sensation of Six filling him, like he wanted to memorize it. He was a tight familiar warmth, carved out in the shape of Six by now, the hard span of his back under Six's hand a sweet contrast to the pillowy give inside him. Six let out a held breath when he bottomed out.

Knight, in turn, tensed and then went loose, sighing out a moan. "There it is," he murmured. "Next time, I'm making you wait half an hour for it. See how you like it."

"It wasn't even ten minutes."

It was easy, too easy, fucking Knight, thumb still rubbing at the edge of his hole where it stretched out around Six, starting off languid and unhurried. Outside of rooms like these they were sharpened knives and pointed guns, so much that even Six almost forgot how responsive and open Knight got when Six folded him up and fucked into him; Six could make him all but beg if he played him right. He had stretched Knight open well enough that there was nearly no resistance, left him wet and hollowed out and hungry for it. Knight rocked forward into his own grip with every thrust, vowel sounds falling off his tongue, sweat starting to shimmer on his shoulders. Six leaned in, snaking his hand down that taut belly to ring his fingers around the base of Knight's cock and just hold it, counting out the heartbeat he could feel along the underside of it.

Knight hitched his hips back against Six, trying to kick up the pace. Six tightened his grip in answer and rode him through the groan and jump of his cock. "Come on," Knight spat at him, "give it to me, quit messing around --"

He went so suddenly tight around Six that it hooked a noise right out of Six's throat. And then he had the gall to look smug about it, smiling crookedly - Six should have put a blindfold on him so he wouldn't have to see Knight's sidelong looks. "You're so fucking impatient," Six hissed, twisting his fist around Knight's cock - then he pulled out completely, grabbed Knight by the hips, and shoved him down onto the bed so that he rolled, Knight too taken by surprise to fight it. Six caught him under the knee to pry his legs apart. He sank into Knight again, quicker, and now he could see all of White Knight, how his head dropped back, the heave of his chest. Six hiked Knight's legs up so that when he leaned forward it bent the man in half, abs crunching in. If he had to see Knight's cocksure expressions he may as well do it this way, taking him in fully, and with free access, all his broad body laid out for Six to touch, his pecs just barely quivering with the force of Six pushing into him, thighs wrapping around Six's waist. Six tested the give of a heavy pectoral, then rolled a nipple between two fingers. Knight jolted.

"Fuck!" Knight grabbed him by the forearm, but he didn't pull Six away. He stared down his body at the way his nipple swelled up hard against Six's touch.

"If you're going to give me such a hard time, I should at least get to play with your tits," Six reasoned. White Knight caught between the halves of the statement. He was already going red, arousal and embarrassment hand in hand. Something about this fucked with him, Six knew, something about groping at his chest like this. It made his cock go so hard it jerked in time with his pulse. Six was all too happy to provide; if opening him up for long stretches of time was his favorite part, this was his second favorite, making Knight's face twist up like he couldn't admit to enjoying it. Six squeezed the heft of Knight's chest while he fucked him, pinning each of his nipples between his fingers and pulling at them, savoring the keen it forced out of Knight. Six theorized he could get Knight to come just like this, just his hands and Knight's tits, his nipples turning pink from the abuse. He'd floated the idea to Knight once just to see him stutter. He caught one nipple and pressed the edge of a fingernail into it and Knight yelped, thighs twitching reflexively, hips grinding down hard. Six realized he was grinning now, something a little wolfish.

He flicked at the same nipple and Knight bared his teeth. "Jesus fucking Christ, Six --" His shoulders curled inward like he wanted to protect himself but he flattened out, arched up into it. Six halfway laughed, rocking up into him, and thumbed over the sore spot.

"You'll have to ask a little nicer if you want to come," he teased, and Knight, moaning on every other breath, reached between them for his own cock again, like he'd forgotten until just now. It spilled thin precome down the backs of Knight's fingers.

"Oh, fuck off," he huffed out, but he was smiling a little, too.

In the heat of this - hot, messy, a little mean, a little playful - it flashed into Six's mind: he liked this. So fucking much, he liked this, the easy bouts of laughter, the intimate closeness. White Knight tipped his head back again and Six tracked the square line of of his jaw, the column of his throat, bare and vulnerable, an arm's length away. This had been trained out of him. Hadn't it -- working with a partner, putting his trust into another body, expecting them to come back every day still alive and still loyal -- he had spent years learning not to put stock into any of it, but he was here, smoothing his hands over White Knight's chest to nudge his thumbs high on Knight's ribcage, bent close. Knight's mouth had gone open again and here was Six staring, wondering, almost wanting. He almost wanted to put his mouth to Knight's neck, to leave a round bite mark on his full chest. He felt himself teetering on the edge of that cliff again. He was there more often than not, these days.

Fuck. Not now. This was a mistake made years ago. Six backed himself away from that line and put the inexorable pulsating want down somewhere deep. He tore his eyes away from the pink shape of that mouth and hauled Knight's knees up over his shoulders, holding him by the thick pillars of his thighs as he started fucking him hard, harder, a shout punching out of Knight's chest for it. Knight fisted his cock in quick strokes, swearing a litany, a pleading prayer, "fuck, Six, c'mon, fuck, fuck," until he turned his head away, eyes squeezed shut but mouth open around a wordless noise as he came. Six had him bent far enough back that it spattered across his tits, all the way up to his neck. He stroked himself through it, and he clenched down in waves over Six's cock.

Six hadn't been worked open and fucked and manhandled but he wasn't far behind. He grit his teeth and pounded in where Knight was going lax and soft, not meeting the heavy burning gaze he knew Knight was giving him, the embers after a house fire, only chasing the building tension and the thought of White Knight taking him so fucking willingly. Wanting him, Six, the person. He felt it stretch and then snap, a tiny revelation, shaking through his nerves, cock as deep as he could get it into Knight.

He wanted to stay.

Six pulled out when he had the breath to, ignoring how Knight whined about it. He dropped one of Knight's legs, but kept the other propped up because - there - as he watched, slowly, come started oozing out of him, an uncharacteristic mess on Knight's neat skin. He'd left Knight sticky and sweat-slick. Six wet his lips, glancing up to meet Knight's eye.

"Your cunt is drooling," he said, deadpan, and Knight rolled his eyes and groaned, flushing redder than he already was, but Six could see his cock try its best to twitch.

Six gathered himself together, tapping at Knight's thigh to prompt him to unbend his knee and let Six up. White Knight was the sort who needed to go limp and loose after and orgasm, but Six could recover in half a minute or less, and he liked to, so that he didn't have to lounge around covered in drying lube. He grabbed a towel out of the bathroom - one he should have grabbed before this started, given the wet spots Knight's cock had made on the quilt - and gave himself a cursory wipe with it, coming back into the bedroom to offer it to White Knight. Knight, who was stretching out over the bed, fingers swiping through the crisscrossing pattern of come over his chest, half smiling to himself. Taking up space, easy and relaxed. They didn't have down time often -- when they did, it was this, but rushed, crammed into the span of a few hours, not enough time left over for them to sprawl out in half-dozing laziness. All this extra time was a luxurious novelty and it had made art out of White Knight, his knees bent just so, light catching on his drying sweat. Six caught himself before he got too lost in it. He tossed the towel onto Knight's chest.

Knight wiped the come off his front, but shoved the towel off the bed instead of using it for anything else. "Don't see why you're bothering. You said five hours, right?" There was a flirtatious lilt to his voice. But his cock was soft against his thigh, and he tipped his head to beckon Six over, eyes half lidded and sleepy.

Six had to jab him in the side to get him to make enough room for two on the bed, or at least two that weren't twined up on top of each other. Knight laughed, but he slid over, far enough that Six could settle down next to him, close enough that Six could feel the heat still trapped in his skin. He found himself brightly aware: of White Knight's breath lifting his chest, near enough that Six felt it tickling over his shoulder; of White Knight's hand resting between them, his fingers brushing against Six's thigh. Knight draped an arm over his eyes, breath slowing. Six thought about the wet place still between Knight's thighs. He thought about Knight taking up space, unapologetic, unburdened.

After a while, he thought Knight had fallen asleep, he was so still and quiet, but Knight shifted, finally, turning his head to look at Six from under his arm. "So," he ventured, "best two out of three?"

Six blinked up at the ceiling. "I'm not fighting you again."

"Never known you to back down from a fight."

"Yes, you have. Do you want to lose again that badly?"

White Knight leaned up on one elbow, smirking down at him, the look he got when he had a bad idea he planned to inflict on Six. Six squinted warily at him. "Come on. Loser blows the winner," Knight said, grin spreading wide.

Four hours, now. It was so much time. "We could just skip to you sucking my cock."

Knight barked out a laugh. "You're an asshole." But maybe that was what he was looking for from the start, because even as he said it he was turning himself on the bed, putting Six's closest leg up over his shoulder. Sideways on the mattress, tucked up between Six's thighs, he pressed his mouth open against the join of Six's hip. Six found himself crooking his other knee to give Knight the extra room.

Six wasn't so stupid as to ask why someone who was inclined to avoid even the medical wing at Providence because he was germ-shy would be so eager to fit his mouth around a cock. Whatever logic Knight was working with, it was fine by Six. Knight nosed against him, still-soft, mouthing there gently. The closeness of teeth to his soft cock made Six nearly shiver, but Knight was careful, conscious of himself. He pulled Six's cock into his mouth and held it there, tonguing at it. There was the patience Six had been looking for all afternoon, hiding behind this, held between Knight's jaws, wrapped in gentleness. White Knight's tongue slid up along the underside. It didn't take very long for Six to start filling out in his mouth.

Knight had a bad habit of getting competitive, putting an edge on everything, and as soon as Six was solid in his mouth he caught Six's eye and set about it being a challenge. He fixed his hand around the root of Six's cock to keep it stable and went down, practiced, the head of Six's cock butting up against the start of his throat, squeezing in. There was something near a smirk on his lips even when they stretched out like this. But the parts of him that weren't self-satisfied and pleased were sharpened with attention, his eyes dark points, the expression he got when he had been knocked down onto the training mat for a third time but he was figuring it out, the puzzle of how his opponent was winning. He swallowed Six down, his throat slick and tight when it worked over him, and narrowed his eyes like he was hoping to learn Six's body perfectly.

Six carded his fingers into the blond scruff of Knight's hair and Knight's eyes narrowed victoriously. When he came up from halfway down Six's cock it was with his mouth shining and red, his tongue a brand against Six's skin. Six eased him back down with the hand on the back of his head, only partly guiding the pace, fisting into his hair when Knight swallowed again, the vulnerable-soft back of his tongue rolling against him. It was Six's turn to hiss, then, a quiet wanting sound, and he pulled at Knight's hair like a cat kneading at the carpet, making Knight tense but murmur a wet noise and push down further.

Eventually Knight lost the eye contact, and Six thought he would be thankful for that, the relief of the weight, but when Knight looked away he went serious about it, head bobbing unselfconsciously, down so far that he choked a little on Six's cock, a sudden needful focus, all of it pointed at Six, all the skill and honed strength and open lust in White Knight turned out onto his partner. Six dropped his head back, dizzy with it, fingers wound tight in Knight's short hair, hips jerking in aborted motions, until all the singular devotion built up too dense. He grabbed Knight by the back of the neck to drag him up, spit stringing between his cock and Knight's mouth. Fuck. Mistakes. His eyes skidded over the swollen pink. Six grabbed at Knight, pulling him up till he sat heavy across Six's hips, still gasping, throat maybe still open from the shape of Six's cock, fuck, Six pulled him near and took them in hand together, cocks matched up against each other, Knight's thick spit slicking the way. He had his hand gripped around the back of Knight's neck, still, boxing them close together, and he could hear it as Knight said his name again, or close enough, or closer than his name: "Six, fuck, Six," his head bent down so close to Six's that he could feel the shape of Knight's words coming out hot against his cheek. They were so close they could share breath. Six teetered on that cliff edge. _Not now._This was a mistake. He could handle it, shake himself loose, make himself usable all the same, maybe with the facade cracked -- Knight tensed, grasping at Six's shoulder, his forehead tipping down to the crook of Six's neck. Six fucked up into the tunnel of his hand, grinding against Knight, jaw clenched tight. When he came he impulsively angled it back to land against Knight's stomach, collecting in the dip of his navel, dripping down over his abs, and Knight followed suit, already-broken voice cracking on Six's name. Six wrung them out through it, final long strokes. His hand came slowly loose from the nape of White Knight's neck. Knight's breath fluttered shivery over his collarbone.

Something echoed silent between them.

Knight straightened, wincing, and glanced down at the mix of their come across his middle. He tried to speak - cleared his throat - gave it a second try: "Why is it that I'm the only one who ever ends up with come on him."

Six wanted to shake the frenetic panicking thing out of his own head. He dragged it back down. Shut it away. "Because you look good like this. Fucked out and messy."

Knight squinted at him, disbelieving, but he let it slide. He rolled off Six's lap to fish around off the side of the bed for the towel he'd dropped there earlier. Six stood - a little harder than earlier - and went to the bathroom to wet a washcloth. Knight wiped himself down, across his belly and down between his legs, still wet there with Six's come. He was tired, clearly, rolling his shoulders and cringing with oversensitivity, but when Six stepped past him to try and collect their clothes, he still had the energy to lash out and grab Six by the wrist and grapple him down to the bed.

"You just spent the better part of an hour fucking me through a hotel mattress," Knight told him, braced over top of him. "It wouldn't kill you to take half an hour to relax before we take a shower and get moving. Whether you take a nap like a civilized person or stare at the ceiling for thirty minutes, I don't care, but for God's sake, Six. Take a break for a second."

It was a fair assessment. Knight waited a minute to be certain that Six wouldn't just try and leave again the minute he let go, then dropped off to Six's side, groaning with exhaustion. The bed really wasn't big enough for the two of them both - they had been given two for a reason - but White Knight curled around him, a little reckless for being worn out, a leg tangling with Six's. And he did sleep this time, Six was sure of it, could see his breathing go deep and slow, the tension in his muscles release. The door was triple locked, and Six was there with him, and it was safe, even though Six had three knives in his vest just on the other bed and there were two more in Knight's vest on the floor and Six could trace the steady rhythm of his pulse in a dozen different places where he could cut right through the skin and kill White Knight before he ever woke. There was a gun in Knight's bag. Six's sword was in his own. He smoothed Knight's sweaty, tousled hair flat again. How odd, to make a mistake time and again and have no inclination to fix it. To be in a situation where he wanted so keenly to make that mistake with intention.

He let Knight have just shy of 28 minutes before he tactically kneed him in the side, pretending to be asleep before Knight could grumble awake. He heard Knight muttering to himself, felt him reach over to shake Six awake and then think better of it, dragging himself off to the shower first. Six listened to the patter of the water as it rushed down, interrupted by Knight's body. Somewhere during, Six actually dozed, realizing it only when he came out of the half-sleep state to White Knight half dressed, hand on Six's shoulder.

"It's an hour's drive, still," he said, pulling on his uniform shirt again. "Go wash up, partner."

In the shower he put himself back together, except for the part that wanted to stay. He left that behind here, imagining it swirling down into the drain. Knight clapped him on the back when he came out clean, scrubbed sane again. In the car, driving back to Providence, he looked over at White Knight, lit with a slash of orange evening light, and then past him.