Archive of Our Own ^beta

“She’ll be fine,” Vicki says when Eli breaks the news to her and Logan back at headquarters. Her mouth twitches with uncertainty. “Won’t she?”

Eli looks at both of them, feeling drained. “Of course she will,” he says. “She just needs some time.”

He doesn’t dare to venture a guess how long, even if he can tell Vicki wants to ask. He’s known Mandana a whole lot longer than either of them have, but something like this is new territory for him, too. He doesn’t know how Mandana will react, not after the long ride on the subway where nobody said a word, the air too ashen to try. Every time Eli had sneaked a sidelong glance, Mandana’s eyes were unfocused, glassy.

He had wanted to reach out, to hold her with that same reckless compunction he felt when he first heard of her going missing, but didn’t know if the touch would be welcomed, given the circumstances. When they had returned home, Mandana had immediately retreated to privacy.

“If she needs time to grieve, that’s okay,” Logan says.

“Yeah, sure, but how much time have we got?” Vicki points out. “I thought this whole mission was urgent.”

“She won’t slow us down,” Eli says. “I can—take point if I have to.”

Saying it feels strange. Kalash was always their silent leader, but they never exactly discussed the chain of command after that. Suddenly it seems like there’s so much to do, so much they should’ve done ahead of time. Things that all feel like too little and too late now.

Logan’s looking at him like he’s reading all of Eli’s harrowed thoughts off his forehead. “You should rest too,” he advises. “It was a tough night all around.”

He and Vicki say their goodbyes, leaving Eli feeling lost in a house he’s at home in. For a moment he feels as if he’s the ghost, floating around unwanted, out of place. The spot where Kalash would always stand by the hearth is unnervingly empty.

Eli can’t bear to look at it for all that long. He heads for his basement, maybe to throw a few unpolished fireballs around the room to find a release, and is halfway down the stairs when he sees Mandana.

She’s studying his blackboard, arms folded. She briefly looks up when Eli comes in.

“Hey,” Eli says slowly. “You all right?” He knows the answer, but feels compelled to ask it anyway. At her anguished look, emotions no longer held back like they were in the subway, Eli breathes out shakily. “Of course you’re not. I’m so sorry.”

He finishes the walk down the stairs, and it’s not until he’s standing next to Mandana that he notices the streaks of drying tears on her cheeks.

“I suppose it would sound silly to say I had hoped my father and I would have more time,” she says in a shell of a voice, so unlike her usual tone. “We had over four hundred years. More than most people ever have. And yet, I doubt even eight hundred would have been enough.”

“It’s never enough time.” A familiar wad of hurt, the one that wells up whenever Eli thinks of his wife, hits his throat. “I get it,” he says. “Love doesn’t expire. So… it’s just unfair that people… do.”

“It would feel better if it had not happened so…” Mandana swallows as she struggles for the right word. Eli recognizes her expression; it’s one she wears when the truth wants to come out but can’t find the proper way to phrase itself. “If it had been under more dignified circumstances.”

“It was dignified,” Eli assures her. “He wanted it this way. A lot of people get to keep living their life as they know it because of his sacrifice.”

Mandana nods mutely, hearing but perhaps not fully listening. The intention or the integrity behind it all might not matter at this point, rather just the pain left behind.

Eli reaches out, stroking her shoulder. Of the whole team, he should be the best at sympathizing. Not a day goes by where the sharp cold of being a family man without a family doesn’t chill his burning soul. Still, the words feel wooden right now, not quite warm enough.

“You know, it might not get better,” he says, “but it’ll get… easier.”

Mandana’s eyebrows furrow. “Is that meant to soothe me?”

Eli drops his hand. Laughter huffs out of him. “Yeah. I get why it might not. But consider it a promise anyway.” His dropped hand feels useless by his side, so he lifts it again, smoothing his thumb over the curve of Mandana’s cheekbone. He means for the touch to be innocent, ordinary, but when Mandana turns to look at him, it’s clear she feels it differently, her expression intense, almost pleading.

Her fingers wrap gently around Eli’s wrist. She moves closer, just enough for it to bear significance.

Eli’s surprised she wants this after what’s happened, but he supposes he shouldn’t be. They’ve always been a place of refuge and easy comfort for each other. Behind Eli’s eyelids play moments of sheer terror from tonight, like seeing Mandana bound to the tree in the grove, drugged by hemlock. The next breath he lets go of comes out ragged. Maybe she’s not the only one who could use this.

“I was worried about you, you know,” he admits. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He watches Mandana’s swallow work through her throat. “It was a harrowing night for all of us.”

Eli doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He wants to help, not to dwell and make it worse, not now. He assumed Mandana would be spending the night curled up in a bottle, so to have her here in front of him now is a privilege he doesn’t intend to waste.

He takes his hat off, setting it aside. He hopes it’ll convey—something. Maybe some degree of vulnerability that she deserves tonight.

“If it’s too much,” he offers, just in case. “Or if you’d rather—”

“I would make my thoughts known,” Mandana interrupts. Her mouth quirks, a small tug. “Although I have no doubt that I will not need to voice any objections.”

She takes another step closer, and that’s all the incentive Eli needs to gather her in his arms. It’s been a while since they’ve done this—they really have been obscenely overworked lately—but the familiarity of the feeling still fills him with a comfortable warmth. His forehead finds Mandana’s, resting there.

He still remembers the first time they did this, how the guilt and the pleasure wrung him in equal measure, the wrong and the right fiercely at war. Years had passed since his wife’s death, and still the betrayal had choked him, until—with that logical, reasonable voice of truth Mandana still wields like a weapon—she had exactly the right words to ease Eli’s mind. That it didn’t have to be what he thought it to be. That it could remain something simple, easy. It’s been easy ever since.

Eli wants to give her the same peace of mind she so often gifts him. He leans in and kisses her, gentle at first and then with more ardor, aiming to distract from the imminent grief. He distracts himself in the process too, all lingering emotions—anger, fear, concern, woe—sweeping themselves under a rug for now.

When he pulls away to regard her a few moments later, Mandana’s eyes are bright, alight. Eli wrestles the loose tie over his neck and shucks off the trench coat, clear in his intentions, and he barely has his arms out of the sleeves before Mandana’s grabbing him by the nape of the neck and reeling him back in. Her casual show of strength, much like the easy grace she uses with her scimitar, sizzles through Eli.

The sizzling needs to wait, though. Mandana’s the priority tonight, and he intends to make sure she knows.

“Come here,” he says, dragging her those last few remaining iotas closer. He kisses her again, just to feel her lean into him. “You wanna let me take care of you?”

Mandana blinks. “Do you have something in mind?”

Oh, he has some plans. Plans that are making him glad he favors such a close shave. “Here,” he says. “Sit down for me.”

He leads her to the edge of his bed, where she sits without question. He nudges her legs apart to kneel between them, hands running up and down her thighs, sliding higher with each stroke. He searches her eyes, looking for permission.

His fingers gingerly stroke her inner thighs, then linger near the opening of her pants. “Can I?”

She indulges him with a patient little smile. “You know that you can.”

He makes quick work of her pants, and she expedites the process by lifting her hips while he pulls them off her legs. There’s always been a duality to doing this: Mandana’s his family, the closest thing he has to it, someone who trusts him and he trusts without a flicker of doubt, and being with her like this when any remaining formality is stripped away has always felt comfortable, natural, but at the same time, the awe of it all shows no sign of wearing off. Having Mandana like this, stretched out almost regally beneath him, all soft and golden and begging to be touched, still leaves Eli grasping, desperate to pinch himself awake. He smooths his hands over Mandana’s thighs, reverent—as always—at having the consent to do so.

“Just relax,” Eli murmurs as he eases her underwear off as well. “I’ll make you feel good.”

“You always do,” Mandana says, no sign of apprehension to be heard.

Eli doesn’t let her—or himself—wait any longer. He leans in and licks over her clit, flattening his tongue. Mandana arches forward and cries out at the first touch, pushing into his mouth. Her demeanor, always so restrained, changes during sex. It appeals to something in the human in her, just like it does for him; what they’re creating is a magic that’s completely unrelated to the Mage or the Jinn.

Except for how she tastes. She tastes too good for that to be anything but a superpower.

“Eli,” Mandana gasps when Eli alternates from licking to sucking. “Oh—Eli, please.”

Her hand finds his hair, grabbing hold of the strands as Eli deviates from the rhythm he’s established. Many years ago, he practiced enough to know how to do this best for her. So much so that years later—but still many years ago—he grew confident enough to improvise. Discover new tempos, new patterns, new ways to reduce Mandana to shuddering groans. He does it again now—goes slightly off course—and relishes in how Mandana’s hips stutter, wordlessly seeking more.

He lets Mandana push against him, grinding against his mouth. Eli pushes back just as insistently, hands tight on her thighs and tongue curling deeper, chasing her slick wetness. His own cock grows thick between his legs as he works, driven to attention thanks to the soft noises and words of appreciation leaving her mouth, but he ignores it, determined to concentrate.

He can tell when she starts getting close. The movement of her hips stutters, losing structure, and the hands in his hair go desperate, all but yanking. He usually adds his fingers into the equation when they do this, slides one or two inside of her and finds her most sensitive spots, but this time, he wants his mouth to be the sole victor. Eli drags his tongue, hardens it, flicks it, curls it. He pulls out every trick that he knows will make her lose control. It’s when he hums around her clit that she tips over the edge, making it known with a long, broken moan that may or may not be a whimpered version of Eli’s name.

It makes his cock throb in his pants. This unrestrained, uncoiled version of herself only Eli gets to see is maddeningly attractive. He watches her ride out the aftershocks of her bliss as he pulls back, licking his lips like a man done with a decadent dessert.

Not that he doesn’t have an appetite for more, should the menu allow it.

“Eli,” Mandana says, breathless, when she’s regained her senses. “Come up here.”

“With pleasure,” he says.

He rises to his feet and immediately, Mandana’s hands drop from his hair to his lapels.

“I find it highly unfair that you’re still fully dressed.”

“Hey, I dropped the tie!” Eli says, but he still starts on the buttons of his shirt. “I’ll go full birthday suit if you do.”

Mandana arches a brow. “Is that meant to be a challenge?”

“More of a request, actually,” Eli says.

It’s a request she grants him, pulling the rest of her clothes off while Eli does the same. He lets himself watch, too enraptured not to. She has the build of a woman sculpted, as if out of bronzed marble, thanks to her hours of vigilant training. He would be a fool not to look. And admire.

Touching is better, though, so when he’s done shedding layers, he joins Mandana on the bed, settling between her spread legs. The bed is small, perhaps a bit too small to do this comfortably, but even the suggestion of getting a bigger mattress might be too much. The implication of this being something more permanent. Eli keeps his mouth shut and uses it to kiss down Mandana’s exposed chest instead, stopping at his favorite spots: the soft skin of her navel, the swell of her breasts, the lines of her collarbones.

Beneath his roving tongue, Mandana’s chest is heaving, her breathing labored. When Eli sneaks a glance, she looks wholly engrossed, miles away from the tragedy they left behind in the woods. Good, Eli thinks, and redoubles his efforts just for good measure. She deserves a respite from her work most nights, but tonight Eli wants to do better, wants to give her a distraction that will send her into the orgasmic stratosphere.

He doesn’t intend to make it about himself, but then Mandana’s hand is reaching between their bodies and curling around his cock. Eli jolts, not expecting the touch, and lifts his head from where he’s busy worshipping her chest.

“Mandy,” he moans. “I didn’t—”

“If it is within your means tonight...” she says, and doesn’t need to say the rest. Her thighs, already spread to accommodate the bulk of him, open wider around his waist as she guides him closer, closer, until the head of his cock is nestled near its goal.

“Yeah?” Eli won’t say no to the offer. He licks his lips with a dry tongue, hips rocking forward out of sheer instinct. “Sounds good to me.”

He cups her cheek and brings their mouths together before he does anything else, looking for that moment of clarity that kissing her provides. It’s never been difficult to compartmentalize what they do here versus what they do otherwise, to separate these fleeting moments of intimacy from their work, but when tucked privately together like this, Eli always feels like he needs to make up for lost time with extra fervor. He draws her lower lip into his mouth, nipping, sucking, and doesn’t pull back until Mandana gets needy, squirming underneath him.

Watching her chiseled composure slip is stronger than an aphrodisiac. It isn’t until she starts whining against his mouth that Eli relents, hiding his pleased grin in her neck.

“Eli,” she says, breathlessly chiding. “Stop teasing.”

He laughs a little, and feels unbelievably good doing so. It was a tense evening, to say the very least, but being with Mandana in the safety of his fireproof walls is relaxing him.

“Sorry,” he says.

Mandana’s eyes narrow. “I detect a lie.”

He laughs again. He’s never said it out loud, but this—the comfort, the compatibility, the way decades of close-knit teamwork have bonded them with both mind and body—is his favorite part of this, more so than any release. Whether or not she knows it, Mandana is his home, and has been for a long time. Being intimate with her makes him feel as if he’s speaking a native language after a long day of struggling with foreign words.

When he finally slides into her, every stray thought still swirling around in his brain evaporates until all he can focus on are the sensations gripping him. Eli’s met with no resistance, just the slick glide of his length inside her clutching heat. A noise stutters out of him, fraught. He needs a moment just to savor the feeling.

“You feel so good,” he tells her. Always makes him wonder why they wait so long between hook-ups, unless it’s the scarcity that makes it special. Is it? Eli can’t imagine ever being anything but in awe of this, of her.

He knows how she likes it best when he’s on top, how to angle himself so he grinds against her clit while he moves, but tonight he wants to get his hands on her, to let his thumb do the work. He starts out with slow, deliberate thrusts, ones that make Mandana’s breath hitch each time, as his hand dips down to join in.

“Eli,” she breathes. “You—you do not have to treat me delicately. I also wish for you to enjoy yourself.”

He shakes his head. “That’s the last thing you need to worry about,” he assures her. “But if you want me to go harder—”

“Yes.”

A grin flickers to life on his mouth. “—then you’ll have to beg for it.”

He holds her down by the hip as she starts squirming. He drags his cock out, just enough to tease, before sliding torturously back in, slowly, glacially.

Mandana’s eyes flash. “Like this?”

She clenches around his cock, the feeling of which is so warm and tight that Eli whines without meaning to. His fault for riling up the daughter of a stubborn pirate queen. It’s surprising that she hasn’t started throwing Irish slang at him.

“Ha—not what I had in mind.”

He gives in anyway, not sure he himself has the control to hold out. He speeds up, putting purpose behind his thrusts, and Mandana meets each one with a roll of her hips. Their movements slide into harmony, no less synchronous than their side-by-side combat, smooth and unspoken and so, so effective.

“Yes,” Mandana sighs, eyes shutting. “Yes. Just like that.”

The oxygen in the room feels like it’s running thin. Eli’s almost dizzy with the feeling of how her body opens up around him, pulling him in further, urging him to go harder. He chases his pleasure for a moment, fucking her almost greedily. She’s too much like this, completely undone, moaning softly each time he fills her. Withdrawing is nearly painful, but each thrust back in is like returning home.

“My stamina’s pretty good,” Eli says when he finds the chance to breathe, “for a guy pushing a hundred. Don’t ya think?”

“I will be more impressed once you reach my age,” Mandana says. Her smile is too mischievous to leave alone; Eli kisses her to sate himself. “Not that I am—oh—not pleased by your sexual appetite.”

Eli shakes his head. “You’re still way too coherent for my tastes,” he says. “Gotta do something about that.”

He pulls Mandana’s legs up by the underside of her knees, shifting the angle of his thrusts. He knows he’s struck gold when Mandana throws her head back, fingertips going white on Eli’s firearms. He repeats the snap and roll of his hips to similarity satisfying results. Fire crackles under his skin, drawn forth as the rush builds inside him, gathering. His midsection grows tighter with each thrust forward.

“Mandy,” he groans. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

“It’s all right,” she says, and was that a contraction she just said aloud? She must be close too. “Me neither.”

Eli ducks down, tipping their foreheads together. His back strains with the arch, but it feels unthinkingly good to feel their lips brush and the heat of her breath. He wants to whisper things to her, words of praise, words of reassurance, but his mind is blanking, tunneling in on the adrenaline and the pleasure and how they’re blending together. His fingers work on her clit without pause.

“Eli,” Mandana gasps, and then the muscles of her stomach are fluttering and the edges of her fingernails are digging in.

She cries out when she comes, almost too loudly for even the basement to contain, and she goes almost painfully tight around Eli's cock. Her core draws Eli in, pulling him closer to the edge, to that surfer’s wave—

“Jesus, I can’t—Mandana—”

He comes trembling and gasping, pleasure rolling through his spine like the frantic spread of lava. Sometimes he wonders if sex wouldn’t be this good if he weren’t a Fire Mage, if the sensations wouldn’t burn through him like an amplified firework. As it is, it feels like all the heat inside himself has reached boiling point, spilling over.

The physical exertion necessary to hold himself up wanes fast after he’s spent. His arms shake, so he gathers Mandana into his arms and rolls them on their sides as he slips out of her. The bed is too small to have her anywhere but tucked close to him, her nose nudging his neck.

Mandana’s in far better shape than he is, but it takes a bit for her breathing to slow as well. Eli listens to each inhale and exhale with a growing sense of calm. He didn’t even realize how much he needed an outlet until now that he’s sated, limbs loose and pliant. He finds the nape of Mandana’s neck, stroking, smoothing over hot skin.

Maybe the smaller bed isn’t such a bad thing. Mandana fits in Eli’s arms like a puzzle piece, nestled in just right. Any more room and she might be on the other end of the mattress. But like this—it’s nice.

“Was it good?” he asks.

“Mmm,” Mandana murmurs into Eli’s neck. He can feel her lips move as she speaks. “That was enjoyable. You are… somehow always more exceptional than I expect.”

Eli smiles. He runs his hand down Mandana’s back. “Did I ever tell you how much I appreciate that you’re half Jinn?”

Mandana huffs, amused. She lifts her head to regard him. “Because you know my compliments are truths?”

“Yeah. So if you have any other notes for me, I’m all ears.”

She squeezes his hipbone, nearly a pinch. “I will not mindlessly inflate your ego. But… you gave me what I needed tonight. Not just a means of escape, if only for a little while, but also a shoulder to lean on. I am grateful.”

“Don’t mention it,” Eli says. “You’d do the same for me. Hell, you have.”

He’s lost count of how many times Mandana’s been there for him. Emotionally, physically, spiritually, all of the above. He’d still be alone, running from Aldin’s Hunters, terrified of his own fiery powers and trying to keep accountant manuals from catching fire if it weren’t for her. And Kalash.

He thinks about how strange it’ll be tomorrow, meeting by the fireplace without him there. No wise words to guide them all. No pensive gaze into the fire. That empty space will be multiplied for Mandana, a hollow spot in her heart as well. Tonight might’ve been a good distraction, but Eli knows it’ll take time.

Maybe being involved in the next few field missions would help her get her mind off things. Maybe Eli will ask her to stay with him tomorrow night too, just in case she wants the company. He’ll do what he can.

“If you do not mind, I would like to stay here a while longer,” Mandana says.

Eli curls her that crucial fraction closer, letting his eyes close. “Stay as long as you like,” he says, and he means it.