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He thinks I'm mad at him. I can tell by his constant pouting and the troubled looks he throws my way. I can see
the wheels in his head turning, trying desperately to figure out what he had done to anger me. He keeps his
distance in the Matrix as well as on The Neb and is remarkably agreeable to everything and anything I have to

I probably should have set the record straight days ago, but it's been rather amusing. I'm not angry with him at
all. In fact, it's the exact opposite, as a sense of absolute euphoria washes over me when I think about him.
No, the problem isn't love. The problem is lust.

I've completely vaulted past sexual frustration. It's been weeks. I can't go near the man without wanting to push him
to the floor and fuck him unconscious. Simply brushing past him in the core almost led to such a display. Morpheus
gives us a lot of leeway, but something tells me he'd have issue with his two first officers humping like rabbits
right in front of him.

Nights are the worst. Work inside the Matrix has been rigorous at best, for all of us, and he falls asleep as
soon as his head hits the pillow. He may be The One, but he's still becoming acclimated to the pressures of his role
and deserves all the rest we can afford him. Often too wired to sleep, I lie awake next to him for hours,
conjuring up images of Commander Lock and fights with Agents in an attempt to dissuade myself from straddling him
as he sleeps. Slowly, his body heat seeps into me and I start to relax, finally falling into a restless slumber.
When I wake, he's always gone, usually already jacked in, and the agonizing cycle repeats itself.

It was the day I accidentally pummeled an innocent bystander in a training simulation that Morpheus announced
we were heading back to Zion for a few days. 'I think we all need a break,' he said. I could have kissed the man.

* * *

It wasn't until we had bid our temporary goodbyes to Morpheus and Link and were riding alone on the elevator
that he said something.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked, his tone grave.

I laughed. One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile in spite of his obvious confusion, evidenced by his furrowed
brow. 'My poor, clueless boy,' I thought.

The elevator ground to a halt before I had a chance to answer him. I smiled as enigmatically as I knew how and
made my exit. He followed easily, closely, his proximity an insistence for an answer he was already beginning to figure
out. I stopped at our door, inserting the key and turning the lock. I felt his breath, warm and moist, on my neck and
a familiar chill ran through my entire body.

I pushed the heavy door open and barreled inside, one hand reaching out and pulling him in behind me. We dropped our
gear onto a nearby table and my hands, finally free, pushed him against the now-locked door. I pressed my body harshly
into his and my mouth sought his hungrily. He answered my actions with fervor, his lips crushing against mine in a
rough kiss, his tongue insinuating itself between them with ease. I snaked my hands up from his chest, my fingers tangling in
his still-growing hair as I pulled his head down to me, demanding more. He filled my senses, my taste and my touch, my sight
and my smell. I tasted him, my tongue manipulating around his skillfully, my teeth scraping against the wet plump of his bottom
lip. When we pulled apart, it was simply for the necessity of oxygen.

"Jesus, Trin," he breathed, his forehead coming to rest against my own.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been wanting to do that?" I asked, an audible shake in my voice.

"So you're not mad?" he asked, his eyes fixed on mine, his pupils dilated.

"Do I look mad?"

Before he could answer, I captured his mouth again, my hands anything but idle as they made quick work of pushing
his shirt up and over his head. He promptly returned the favor and spun me around until I was the one against the
door, the cool metal on my back a stark contrast to the heated skin that pressed me into it. His
head bowed and his lips grazed the lines of my neck, alternately kissing, licking, and nipping at the spots he
knew were sensitive.

My pulse raced in anticipation as I felt his right hand trail down to my stomach, his fingers hovering just over
the elastic of my pants. He edged one finger in first, then two, massaging the flesh of my belly gently even as I knew
his mouth was leaving marks on my neck. His hand crept down further still and I found myself unable to control the
tremors that wracked through my body. I instinctively lifted one leg up as high as I could and wrapped it around
his leg, allowing him the access we both needed him to have.

My head fell back and my eyes squeezed shut as he slid the same one finger, then two, inside of me, his thumb nestling
naturally against the nerves that were already acutely sensitive. His strokes were long, but his pace was hurried,
and it wasn't long before I reached what I was convinced was the edge of all reason, my climax ripping
through me with throbbing force.

My leg slid down against his limply and my heart threatened to beat out of my chest. His breathing was as labored as my
own, his open mouth pressed wetly against the curve of my shoulder.


His head snapped up to look at me and his expression was one of hunger, his eyes predatory. He crushed my mouth
under his, his tongue once again beckoning for my exchange. His movements were erratic now, desperate for a release,
his hands shaking as he pulled down the fabric of my pants and underwear until they were off and I was fully exposed
beneath him. I swiftly reached for his pants as well, unbuttoning and pushing them down until he could kick them
off into the corner of the room. He wrapped his arms around my torso and lifted me carefully against the door. My legs
encircled his waist and a deep groan escaped his throat as I came back down on him, burying him completely inside.

He bucked his hips against me, his movements disjointed until he found a rhythm that agreed with our positions. I
soon found myself close to a second release and exploded atop him, crying out as my inner muscles clenched and
released around him. He joined me evenly, throwing his head back as he came. His thrusts continued, each more languid
in pace than the previous, until the sensations left his body and he was able to slow his hips to a stop. The
muscles of my inner thighs screamed to relax, so I reluctantly unwrapped myself from around him and let my
feet fall to the floor.

His head was bowed and his eyes were still closed and I could see him still trying to catch his breath. I placed my
hand against his cheek, his skin moist with a thin layer of perspiration that covered the entire surface of both our
bodies. He looked up slowly and met my gaze.

"You've been holding out on me," I said, smiling.

He smiled back and leaned his head in, kissing me softly.

"I was convinced you were mad at me," he said. "I guess I should have known better."

"Yes, you should have," I said, my arms coming up to rest on his shoulders, my hands resting on the nape of his neck.

"Well, I promise not to make that mistake again."

"Good," I said, brushing my lips against his gently.

"And we're getting better," he said. "In the Matrix, I mean."

"Yes, we are."

"Which gives us more time to get better at certain things outside of the Matrix."

"Yes, it does," I said, my lips against his.

"This certainly was better."

I smiled and caught his mouth in a long kiss before responding.

"Well, it was a start."

* * *