[ 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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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. ]