[ Root is indeed a good cruise director. She's cerebral and stuck in her head even when she's enjoying herself physically, whether that's with action or intimacy, and she can enjoy herself without getting lost in the sensations or the adrenaline. Carver takes directions so well and for this, their first encounter, Root won't play games or lead him astray; the balance between them is tenuous, trust stretched further, to a new length. Meanwhile, she can read Shaw like an open book, and Root is happy to teach someone else how to please her even if it is tinged bittersweet.
She doesn't want Shaw to be alone without her. As long as the person in question meets her standards, of course -- so she's testing Carver here, just a bit, to make sure.
It's a little surreal having sex with Shaw down here in the subway, too, even if it's not as she remembers it, even if someone else is there, even with all the other changes. They'd had so little time in this setting before Shaw was gone and then when she was back, before Root was dead. But here they are again, a loss finally addressed.
There's no second chances. Root believes that utterly. This is a new chance, its own unique thing, and she appreciates it for that.
This whole exchange is about her orchestrating them getting comfortable with one another, so honestly, it's debatable whether she gets off at all. It just feels like not the point. If they insist, she's not about to turn it down -- but otherwise Root is going to see to it that they're both worked over and satisfied, crammed onto a queen-sized bed in a room she used to sleep in with a purple shag carpet and a softly ambient table lamp.
They're all sweaty and luxuriating in post-orgasmic neurochemical surges, tangled together, breaths heaving, but her mind won't stop buzzing.
Root is naked except for plain blank underwear as she moves to slip off the bed. ]
[ In the end, it's not as complicated or as fraught as Carver worried it might be at the back of his mind. He hasn't touched anyone like this in a long time, or even particularly wanted to. The door hasn't closed entirely, though. And maybe it's easier that it's just a moment, that he's invited into this space but knows he won't stay there, won't get in between Shaw and Root. What they have is woven stronger than whatever temporary presence he represents. And in that there's freedom. Lower stakes.
This can just be a moment, in the end. And they make it a good moment, the three of them. Shaw's strong and responsive, Root gives good orders, and Carver supposes he likes taking them sometimes. He catches his breath against the mattress, their clothes abandoned somewhere on the floor, and it's okay.
It's good, even.
He pushes a hand through his hair, eyes half-lidded. Still somewhat tangled up in Shaw. And calm, truly calm, for the first time in a very long time even as Root sits up.
Carver tilts his head at her. ]
Leaving?
[ It's like a magic trick. No part of him hurts right now. He can't remember the last time he felt this good. ]
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timeskip
She doesn't want Shaw to be alone without her. As long as the person in question meets her standards, of course -- so she's testing Carver here, just a bit, to make sure.
It's a little surreal having sex with Shaw down here in the subway, too, even if it's not as she remembers it, even if someone else is there, even with all the other changes. They'd had so little time in this setting before Shaw was gone and then when she was back, before Root was dead. But here they are again, a loss finally addressed.
There's no second chances. Root believes that utterly. This is a new chance, its own unique thing, and she appreciates it for that.
This whole exchange is about her orchestrating them getting comfortable with one another, so honestly, it's debatable whether she gets off at all. It just feels like not the point. If they insist, she's not about to turn it down -- but otherwise Root is going to see to it that they're both worked over and satisfied, crammed onto a queen-sized bed in a room she used to sleep in with a purple shag carpet and a softly ambient table lamp.
They're all sweaty and luxuriating in post-orgasmic neurochemical surges, tangled together, breaths heaving, but her mind won't stop buzzing.
Root is naked except for plain blank underwear as she moves to slip off the bed. ]
no subject
This can just be a moment, in the end. And they make it a good moment, the three of them. Shaw's strong and responsive, Root gives good orders, and Carver supposes he likes taking them sometimes. He catches his breath against the mattress, their clothes abandoned somewhere on the floor, and it's okay.
It's good, even.
He pushes a hand through his hair, eyes half-lidded. Still somewhat tangled up in Shaw. And calm, truly calm, for the first time in a very long time even as Root sits up.
Carver tilts his head at her. ]
Leaving?
[ It's like a magic trick. No part of him hurts right now. He can't remember the last time he felt this good. ]