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None of the 7000 simulations had prepared Shaw for this moment. Samaritan’s version of Root was convincing, but it could never truly predict the extent of Root’s fanaticism. Here she stood, waxing poetic about the possibility of an afterlife while casually holding herself at gunpoint.
They were at an impasse.
Reluctantly, Shaw put her own gun down and tucked it back in her jeans. Root was still staring at her as Shaw put her hand on Root’s gun and lowered it. Root flicked the safety back on and finally stowed it away too.
Shaw sighed. “Don’t ever point a gun at yourself again. Goddamnit, Root.”
“I might say the same to you.”
Root closed the small gap between them and rested her forehead against Shaw’s. “I searched and searched for you.” At this confession, a single tear trickled down her cheek.
“I know,” Shaw said.
“I couldn’t — I thought —”
“I know. I know.”
Shaw’s gaze flicked from Root’s eyes to her lips. And then Shaw’s fingers were tangled in Root’s hair, and she pulled Root down, and Shaw kissed her, fiercely, desperately, and Root kissed her back with equal intensity.
They had always had a push-pull dynamic, like the moon and the tides. Root would pull Shaw in; Shaw would push her away. This was different. There was no push; they drew each other in closely. There was no elevator, no horde of enemy combatants. It was just the two of them, obscured by the darkness and trees — an acknowledgement of their longing in the midst of an apocalyptic shitstorm.
When they at last pulled apart, which they did only infinitesimally, Root rubbed her thumb along Shaw’s jaw and said, “You must be famished. Come on. I’ll get you a steak.”
There was a promise of something more in her words.
“We might get caught.”
“She’ll guide us, and we’ll stick to the shadow map as much as possible. Besides,” Root added, “I’ve gotten pretty good at disguising myself. I’m sure we can do the same for you.”
Shaw distinctly recalled Root’s last cover identity, before Shaw’s capture. “It better not be a bear costume,” she said fervently.
But Root held Shaw’s hand and began to whisk her away into the night, looking back at her with a flirtatious little smile tugging at her lips.
*
As it transpired, disguises weren’t necessary. Shaw kept her hood up as they hugged brick walls and ducked into winding alleys. It was past 11pm when Root disabled the cameras at Delmonico’s, jimmied the lock on the back door, and furtively led Shaw to a table away from any windows.
“We’ve got the whole place to ourselves,” Root said, surveying the empty restaurant with a grin, illuminated dimly by the little table lamp.
“Right…except that means there’s no one to cook for us.”
“Who needs a chef when you’ve got a god in your ear, telling you exactly how your girl likes her steak?”
Shaw wildly imagined the Machine as the rat from Ratatouille, yanking Root’s hair to help her cook competently.
Noticing the skepticism etched on Shaw’s face, Root said, “Come on, Sam. I was a caterer at a wedding a few weeks ago. I made a pretty killer quiche Lorraine.”
“Killer as in, someone ate it and died?”
Root laughed and then patted Shaw’s arm, gently coaxing her to sit. “Trust me,” she said.
The familiarity of those words washed over Shaw, and she relented.
Half an hour later, Root returned with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and a large ribeye with a side of salad. She slipped onto a chair across from Shaw and rested her chin on her hands, affectionately gazing at Shaw.
“Oh. That does look good.” Shaw took a bite of the steak, closed her eyes, stifled a moan of appreciation, and nodded. “Okay. Fine. You were right or whatever.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Root said sincerely.
“So…you’re just going to watch me eat?”
Root inclined her head in assent.
Shaw speared another piece of the steak and held out her fork. “At least have a bite.”
“Aww, Sam, that’s so sweet.”
Root kept staring seductively at Shaw as her lips closed around the fork. Shaw tried to push away the thought of those lips encircling something else.
Root poured wine for both of them. She raised her glass. “To our continued survival and to Samaritan’s demise,” she said.
“Yeah, fuck Samaritan,” Shaw agreed, clinking her glass against Root’s. She took a sip of the wine. “Look. I’m not an idiot. I know we’re not all making it out of this war alive.”
Root’s smile faltered. “One day at a time, sweetie.”
“That’s not an answer.” Shaw put her fork down. “I need you to promise me that you won’t do anything reckless and crazy.”
“Oh honey, I’m going to need you to be so much more specific,” Root said. “I’m told that everything I do is reckless and crazy.”
“Stop getting your ass in danger. And don’t sacrifice yourself for anyone.”
“Isn’t that a bit ironic coming from you, Sameen?”
Shaw stared at Root imperiously. “I’m a soldier, and sacrifice is in the job description. I mean it, Root. You’re too —” Shaw stopped abruptly, not knowing what to say. Important? Valuable? Precious?
But Root seemed to know exactly what Shaw had meant. Her eyes glistened. She opened and closed her mouth a few times and at last managed to say, “I’m very touched, Sameen.” She took a breath, and when she again met Shaw’s eyes, her gaze was steady. “Can I interest you in dessert?” Root asked, her words dripping with innuendo.
Shaw narrowed her eyes at Root’s evasiveness, but she understood that they would need to table the discussion for now. “We should get moving. Thanks for the steak. It was fucking incredible. I’ll help you clear up.”
Once Root put away the clean plates and pans in the kitchen, she turned to Shaw. “And now we need to decide on a safe place for the night.”
Shaw looked at Root for a moment. “In all those simulations, you were my safe place,” she said quietly. “There was no other escape.”
The stunned look on Root’s face shifted to a profound love that Shaw didn’t know what to do with.
Root held Shaw’s hand to her heart. “I’m not leaving you,” she said. “You’re stuck with me until the bitter end.” She hesitated. “Listen. I’ve been weighing the options. We’d get caught too easily at a hotel. Harold owned one before Samaritan came online. Technically he still does, but we can’t go there now without blowing his cover. Elias has been occupying our safehouse. Please — let me take you to our base.”
Root was choosing her words carefully.
Shaw felt the rhythmic thud of Root’s heartbeat, inhaled the scent of her hair and perfume. These details seemed so much richer now than they ever had in Shaw’s mind.
“Okay,” Shaw acquiesced at last. “But I need you to blindfold me. If Samaritan’s in my head, if it’s using my eyes as ports — We just can’t take any chances.”
Root produced a black tie off a waiter’s uniform. “As you wish,” she murmured, tying it around Shaw’s eyes.
*
Root carefully guided Shaw down the stairs. Shaw heard a few beeps as Root punched in the code to the vending machine. When they stepped into their lair, there was a loud bark, and Shaw was bowled over by Bear. Shaw grinned for the first time in months. It took all of her willpower not to rip off her blindfold.
“Told you I’d be back, buddy.” Shaw kissed the top of Bear’s head. “Sorry it took me so damn long.”
“Let’s continue this cozy reunion in my room,” said Root.
“Your room?” Shaw asked, bewildered.
But she was soon being whisked away again. Root closed the curtains behind her and took off the blindfold. Shaw blinked in utter befuddlement as she took in the sea of purple before her, lit dimly by a jeweled lamp. Root kicked off her boots and was now walking around in bunny slippers.
Catching Shaw’s expression, Root explained, “I camped out here for several weeks when Harold and I were rebuilding the Machine. I couldn’t leave, not without a cover identity.”
The thought of Root trapped and bereft of an identity irked Shaw for reasons she couldn’t explain. “It’s…not what I expected,” she said.
“I’ve been on the move for so long. Needed to travel light, so I never really had any material possessions.” Root shrugged, an almost wistful look on her face. “Thought I’d give myself a chance to decorate like a college student. Have some fun with it, you know?”
Shaw opted not to tell Root about how she’d envisioned them having sex on a table.
“Did you install a shower here too?”
“Of course.” Root pointed to a door near her clothes rack. “A girl’s got to smell good.”
“We’ve been rolling around in the dirt. I gotta take a shower.” Shaw plucked a leaf out of Root’s hair and flicked it away. “Case in point.”
Root scrunched her nose. Then, her expression became hopeful. “Can I join you?”
But Shaw smirked. She slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
*
Root was leafing through a book when Shaw emerged from the bathroom a little while later. Shaw caught a few snippets of a conversation: “I know you’ll respect his decision - as will I - but he truly does not seem to understand the consequences of that choice.” There was a pause. “No, you both need to stop being too timid to do what needs to be done.”
Root glanced up. At the sight of Shaw, clad only in a sports bra and black boxers, Root put the book in her nightstand drawer and stood. “Let me see you,” she said softly.
“What were you talking about just now?” Shaw asked.
Root sighed wearily.
“Don’t worry about that, Sameen. Let that be my problem. It’s just a conversation that I need to have with Harold.”
That, Shaw thought, explained everything.
Root ran her hands from Shaw’s shoulders, down her arms. “You didn’t lose any muscle mass,” she noted, pleased.
“Kept myself fit by killing off Lambert’s men.”
“That’s my girl.” Root’s fingers brushed Shaw’s abdomen. “This one’s from Wilson,” Root murmured, stroking a scar on Shaw’s gut. “And these —” she began, stroking the scars on Shaw’s right side.
“— Are from that blonde bitch, Martine,” Shaw finished.
“I relived that day at the Stock Exchange every moment for the past 10 months, wondering if there was something I could’ve done differently.”
“Root. I made a choice.”
Root’s hands slipped off of Shaw’s sides. She looked away and nodded. “Yes. Yes you did. And I know that in over 500,000 versions of that same event, you would have done the same thing.”
Shaw put Root’s hands back on her skin. “Don’t stop.”
Root knelt down and resumed caressing Shaw’s scars. “I killed Martine with my bare hands,” Root said, as nonchalantly as if she were talking about the weather.
“That’s so hot.”
Root’s breath ghosted over Shaw’s skin. She glanced up at Shaw, a question in her eyes. When Shaw nodded, Root placed her lips on Shaw’s stomach. Her soft pecks quickly gave way to open-mouthed kisses. Shaw pulled her bra off while Root toyed with the band of her underwear. But then, in one swift, fluid motion, Root stood, her hands roving up Shaw’s back as she kissed her way along Shaw’s neck. Just when Root’s lips were about to reach Shaw’s breasts, she suddenly whirled them around and shoved Shaw onto the small bed.
Root began to strip, making quick work of her jacket, shirt, and jeans. Shaw pulled Root on top of her, unhooked Root’s bra, and chucked it aside. Shaw felt the vibration of Root’s hum as their bare bodies touched.
Root’s hair tickled Shaw’s cheek. Shaw tucked it behind Root’s ear, admiring the way the light accentuated her gold highlights. Root leaned down, her lips lightly grazing Shaw’s. She was too slow, too gentle. Shaw lunged forward and kissed Root hard, her tongue darting into Root’s mouth.
Root wrenched away and began to lavish all her attention on Shaw’s breasts. She rolled a nipple between her thumb and index finger and kissed and licked them until Shaw pushed Root’s head, urging her to move down.
“Patience, Sameen,” Root purred.
Nonetheless, Root began to make her way down Shaw’s body, leaving behind a trail of kisses. Her long fingers slipped just under the band of Shaw’s underwear, and she painstakingly pulled it down. Now Root kissed her way up Shaw’s leg, from her calf to her thighs. Shaw tamped down a hiss as Root bit her inner thigh hard and then gently sucked at the bite mark. She was still resolutely ignoring the area where Shaw needed, wanted her the most. Shaw tried to shimmy and angle herself to get Root’s mouth between her legs, but Root emphatically pushed Shaw’s hips down and slithered back up to kiss Shaw’s ribs and stomach.
“Root,” Shaw groaned, and she could feel Root’s lips curve into a smile against her belly button.
Suddenly, Root spread Shaw’s legs apart and ducked between them, her lips firmly encircling Shaw’s clit while she put two fingers inside her, pleased by the wetness that greeted her.
“You’re so wet for me, Sameen. So wet and welcoming,” Root murmured against Shaw’s clit.
Shaw’s heels dug into Root’s shoulders. When Root slipped in a third finger, Shaw swore she saw stars. Her mouth fell slack, and she let out a sound she’d never heard herself make as she came all over Root’s hand.
Root kept her fingers curled inside Shaw until she finished riding out her orgasm. Then she pulled out and wiped her fingers on the bedsheets. Shaw’s eyes were closed when Root sidled back up to her and kissed her, long and deep. Shaw allowed this for some time. Her hand roved from Root’s hair to her back to her waist, and she gripped it, hard enough to leave a bruise. Root let out a surprised gasp when Shaw flipped them over and pinned her shoulders down.
Root bit her lip and draped her hands over Shaw’s shoulders. “We keep meeting like this. It’s like that scene from The Lion King.”
Shaw leaned down and breathed into Root’s ear. “What I’m about to do to you does not belong in a children’s movie.”
“Hm.” Root turned the UglyDoll bat around. “That’s better. Gotta protect the remnants of Batsy's innocence.”
“You are such a nerd.”
“Maybe we can tie the blindfold around her,” Root joked.
Shaw reached down and plucked said blindfold off the shag rug. “Oh, I have a better use for it,” she said, expertly binding Root’s wrists together.
“Thought you didn’t want me to stop touching you,” Root said with a pout.
“Times change.”
Root was still wearing her underwear, and it made Shaw irrationally annoyed. She yanked it off in a single motion and sat on Root’s waistline, gazing down at her. Root’s bound hands were above her head, her hair fanned out on the pillow. Shaw splayed her hands on Root’s clavicle and slid them down her breasts, to her stomach. Root stared and stared up at her, watching, waiting.
Shaw leaned down and bit Root’s shoulder, where Shaw had shot her years ago. She plastered kisses along Root’s soft neck, nipping it on occasion. Root’s breath was in the conch of Shaw’s ear. Shaw put her mouth on one of Root’s breasts while fondling the other. Gradually, she moved down to Root’s stomach. Root had been working out, Shaw was pleased to note; her abs were much more defined now.
“I was a Pilates instructor at one point,” Root explained, rather unnecessarily.
Shaw guffawed. She spent several long minutes on Root’s stomach, stroking her thumb along Root’s ribcage.
“Lower,” Root groaned. Her bare legs were draped over Shaw’s back.
“Turnabout is foreplay, huh Root?”
Root huffed.
Shaw stroked the area behind Root’s knees and then buried her head between Root’s legs, kissing and biting Root’s inner thighs. At last, she pressed her mouth against Root’s clit, appreciating the taste of her, breathing in the heady scent of her, the evidence of Root’s pleasure. The obscene sucking sounds Shaw was making were drowned out by Root’s wanton moans. Her thighs tightened around Shaw’s head, and her spine began to arch.
But when Shaw knew Root was close, she pulled her mouth off of Root entirely.
“Shaw!” Root protested. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
“Got a strap-on in here?”
Root blinked blearily. It took a moment for the haze to ebb so she could process the question. Root nodded toward the nightstand. “Middle drawer.”
Shaw retrieved the strap-on and some lube. She set to work, donning the harness and generously applying lube on the silicone. “Do you ever worry about Finch finding these things?”
“Harold knows better than to come snooping in here,” Root drawled, a mischievous grin playing at her lips. “Well. Now he knows.”
Root gasped as Shaw placed some lube into her; the gasp gave way to a breathy moan when Shaw easily slipped the dildo inside her.
They were chest to chest, forehead to forehead, both sweating, as Shaw rhythmically thrust into Root.
“Shaw. Untie me. Please.” Root’s breathing was laboured.
“Well,” Shaw murmured huskily against Root’s jaw, “you did say ‘please.’” The knot came undone, and Shaw swept the tie onto the floor.
As soon as Root’s hands were free, she tried to grab Shaw’s back, but Shaw had expected this and pinned down Root’s hands, their fingers entwined. Root tilted her hips up to wrap her long legs around Shaw’s lower back more tightly. The dildo slipped deeper into her at this change in the angle, and Shaw tried to commit to memory the breathy sound Root made in response. Shaw picked up the pace, her hips undulating. The room was a symphony of the slick sound of the strap-on, Root’s abandoned moaning and hitched breath, and the creaking of the bed beneath them,
Root’s entire body convulsed as she came on the strap-on. Her eyes were closed, and she breathed out Shaw’s name.
Shaw pulled out slowly, took off the harness, and set the strap-on on the shag rug. She kissed Root’s eyelids and settled beside her. Root draped her arm over Shaw’s waist, and they lay together quietly.
“I have something of yours,” Root said eventually. “Top drawer.”
Shaw opened it. Inside was the book Root had been reading — Sense and Sensibility — and the Order of Lenin that Gen had given her a couple of years ago.
Shaw stared at it. She placed it by the lava lamp and turned back to Root.
“Samaritan operatives raided your apartment after they captured you, searching for any clues that might lead them to the rest of us. Of course, they found nothing, but they stole the medal anyway. It took me some time to track this down. It was hanging from your lamp that day we had our first mission together.”
“The day that you tased, drugged, and kidnapped me?”
“We had fun, didn’t we?” Root smiled.
It was always an adventure with Root. “Thanks. For getting it back.”
“The Machine never told me why that medal was important to you.”
“One of our numbers gave it to me. A ten-year-old kid. And she said something to me that I always remembered: that my feelings are there, just quiet. All I had to do was listen.”
Root’s gaze was soft and loving.
Shaw slid her hand onto Root’s ear. “So, I listened. I got your message in the radio static. Four-alarm fire. You remembered.”
“Of course I did,” Root said. “The possibility of us being together someday was all that sustained me.”
There was no way Samaritan could have known about that conversation in the stock exchange. It was private, with gunfire ricocheting off the walls. Samaritan hadn’t had access to the security feeds either.
“You seem real,” Shaw said. “Different than Samaritan’s version of you. It pisses me off that I don’t know for sure if this is real or not, or if I’m in control or not.”
“The way I see it, regardless of whether or not this is real, all we can really do is the next right thing. We have agency in that. And you always do the right thing.” Root kissed Shaw’s palm, before placing it back on her ear. “It’s what I love the most about you.”
Shaw snorted. “Thought you love my ass the most.”
Shaw liked the feel of Root’s breath on her neck as Root chuffled.
“I can love many things about you at once, Sameen.”
For a moment, they were quiet again. Shaw basked in the feel of Root’s fingers absently caressing her back.
“It’s not true though,” Shaw said eventually. “I don’t always do the right thing. There was a scientist. I thought it was another pointless simulation. I killed her.”
“You didn’t know. I’ve killed many people knowing full well they were innocent. But the Machine helped me find redemption. We’re all worthy of a second chance to do the right thing.”
“Second chances are overrated.”
There was a melancholic look on Root’s face at the memory Shaw’s words had evoked. “Only if that chance is squandered,” she said.
“Agency and choice only really matter if you know what your values are. You need to have a sense of identity for that. But Samaritan made me question my memories. And who are we, if not our memories?” Shaw pursed her lips. “I feel like…they violated my identity. Poked and prodded at thoughts they had no right to be privy to.”
“When we were rebuilding the Machine,” Root said slowly, “She got lost in Her memories. Relived each of the 42 times that Harold had killed Her. She couldn’t process context for a while, and She attacked all of us because She perceived us as threats. We had to anchor her in the present.” Root looked thoughtful. “I think…it would help for you to talk to the Machine. You’re more alike than you know.”
“No way,” Shaw said flatly. “This is exactly what Greer would want. If I talk to Her, if this is a simulation —"
“Sameen,” Root murmured as she kissed the spot behind Shaw’s ear, “I am the interface.” Smiling gently, she rolled over Shaw and out of bed.
Shaw realized she hadn’t fully appreciated Root’s backside during their debauchery, and she drank in the scene now: Root’s curls cascading past her shoulders, the curve of her ass, her long legs - legs that had wandered in and out of Shaw’s dreams for months.
Root waggled her eyebrows. “See something you like, sweetie?”
“Shut up.” Shaw sat up, covering herself with blankets.
Root shrugged on a bathrobe. Still smiling, she knelt before Shaw again and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, they were glassy, and Shaw understood that Root was speaking for the Machine. It occurred to her, however, that she’d never witnessed this before.
“Welcome back, Primary Asset Sameen Shaw,” Machine!Root said. “I am grateful to you for the sacrifices you made to keep us safe, and I am sorry for what you endured. I know you are questioning your perception of reality. If you permit it, I would like to help.”
Shaw remembered what it was like to speak to Samaritan’s kid avatar in a simulation. Warily, she nodded her head.
Machine!Root picked up the laptop lying on a maroon chair adjacent to the nightstand. It flickered to life, displaying images from Shaw’s past.
“First, you wanted to be a doctor. When you were rejected, you became a soldier, and then an ISA operative. Every profession you chose was in the name of serving others.”
“I killed a lot of people though,” Shaw pointed out.
“You did the best you could with the information you had, in an effort to protect the country,” Machine!Root replied.
Surveillance footage began to play.
“If that work taught me anything, it’s that how you do matters as much as what you do. And by that metric, you’re all just terrorists. And I kill terrorists.”
“Hang on, kiddo. I’m coming for you.” There was footage of Gen hugging Shaw, accessed from the boarding school’s security cameras.
There were audio clips drawn from Shaw’s phone.
“Root’s going to get herself killed.”
“She’s going to meet an all-seeing, all-evil god by herself. That doesn’t sound fine to me. That sounds like someone who needs backup.”
There was a video clip of Shaw walking beside Root, pulled from a street camera.
“He gave me a pretty hard sell trying to get me to go with him, and for a hot second, I almost did.”
“But?”
“I guess…there are things I care about here.”
Shaw smiled in spite of herself at the ridiculous shocked and gleeful face Root had made. Even then, she hadn’t admitted to Root that she had become Shaw’s mission.
Push and pull.
Last, there was Shaw pulling Root down for a kiss and pushing her back into the elevator, as Shaw ran directly into gunfire.
“In all of these moments, you could’ve walked away,” Machine!Root said. You could’ve done the easy thing and chosen to save your own life, leaving others to fend for themselves. But you never did. You value loyalty. Integrity. Because you care about other people.”
“How do I know that these are the real versions of the events in my life? You could be spoofing the audio and video recordings,” Shaw said.
”No. Admin programmed me not to do that. It is against my core code.”
Shaw sat with that for a minute.
“The director of my med school program told me I didn’t care if my patients lived or died,” Shaw said.
“Admin has constantly questioned my ability to love. But the love, the care, and the respect for human life are there. Others do not experience these feelings the way that you and I do.”
It occurred to Shaw then that Root, who wore her heart on her sleeve, loved two beings whose own feelings were muted at best. Neither Shaw nor the Machine could show their love for Root in the same way. Yet, it never deterred her.
“There’s something Root said in the park earlier. That You brought me back to her. But You didn’t.” Shaw’s tone was flat and even, but she could feel the anger bubbling to the surface. “I saved myself. I came back to New York alone. How can You say that You care about me? You abandoned me. You’re omniscient, and you couldn’t tell the team where I was?”
There was a long pause. Glimpses of Root’s shock and grief seeped through her analog interface mask. “I am sorry I failed to save you. I, too, did the best I could with the information I had,” Machine!Root said. “You have some residual anger towards Analog Interface for not finding you sooner.”
It was true, but Shaw hadn’t realized it before.
“Please do not be angry with Analog Interface. She dedicated every waking moment to finding you.”
Now there were video clips of Root flashing across the laptop screen. Root and Reese, wreaking havoc across five states, leaving glass and the wreckage of smoking vehicles in their wake. Root mercilessly interrogating Control with a taser. Root drilling a hole in a woman’s hand, a feral, wrathful look in her eyes that Shaw had never seen before. Root, standing under a street camera with tears in her eyes, begging the Machine to help her. Root, standing on the ledge of a building with her eyes closed, demanding that the Machine give her Shaw’s location – a similar game of chicken to the one Root had played with Shaw in the park earlier. Root, offering to surrender herself to Samaritan in order to be taken to the facility where Shaw was held.
Root, who was batshit insane and loved Shaw unconditionally, devotedly, ardently.
Root, who would fuck Shaw but would never fuck around when it came to Shaw.
Root, who had never once given up on Shaw.
“Thanks for showing me,” Shaw said.
Machine!Root nodded.
“Alright Root,” Shaw murmured, placing a hand on Root’s cheek. “That’s enough. Come back now.”
Root cupped Shaw’s hand in her own and kissed Shaw’s knuckles. She stood, hovering above Shaw.
Shaw held Root’s waist. “You could’ve fallen off that ledge and died.”
“I’m still standing.”
The screen briefly flashed, Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Shaw huffed. “Did you hardcode the Machine to be a huge dork like you?”
Root smiled.
There was a short silence as they stared at each other.
“You defied your own god to look for me?” Shaw asked.
“We defied gods for each other, Sameen,” Root said quietly.
Shaw untied Root’s bathrobe and reeled Root back in toward her. “Ready for round two?” Shaw asked.
Root’s lips curved into a salacious smile. She straddled Shaw’s lap and leaned in for a kiss, but Shaw had other plans. She swiftly lay on the bed and gripped Root’s hips and ass, pulling her forward and reveling in the look of realization on Root’s face.
“Damn. I should’ve installed a headboard,” Root said. She settled for placing her hands on the wall and tried to suppress a moan as Shaw tugged her down and pressed her lips against Root’s clit. Root gasped and sputtered a litany of cuss words, punctuated on occasion with cries of Shaw’s name. She gripped the nightstand for more support and shuddered as Shaw sucked harder, her tongue lapping at Root’s wetness like she was still traversing the desert and had stumbled upon an oasis.
Shaw relished it when Root lost control like this. Root was usually so sure, so confident in her perpetual god mode, but now, she was entirely at Shaw’s mercy.
Root came moments later, reverently breathing out, Sameen like a prayer. The sound of her voice sent a frisson down Shaw’s arms.
Root collapsed beside Shaw, her chest heaving.
Shaw kissed Root languidly, and Root groaned at the taste of herself on Shaw’s lips. Shaw tucked her head against Root’s collarbone and listened to Root’s heartbeat and breathing slow down.
“We’ll meet up with the boys tomorrow by the Queensboro bridge,” Root murmured. “It’s time to properly reinaugurate you onto the team.”
Shaw hummed her assent against Root’s warm skin. Then, she fell into the most peaceful sleep she’d had since her capture as Root stroked her hair.