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[Mara=^.^=]

 

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

my typing fingers are ready

 

((And this is in no way is meant to pressure you. More just like letting you know I am very excited.))

[Mara=^.^=]

Chapter is DONE. FINALLY. 10,000+ words - the longest chapter to date. Now I just need to do the edits. 

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

Holy eff, Mara. That is impressive. I hope you are ready for an essay length review where I go on and on about this truly amazing fic. Your sheer mastery of your craft never fails to amaze me!

[Mara=^.^=]

Holy eff, Mara. That is impressive. I hope you are ready for an essay length review where I go on and on about this truly amazing fic. Your sheer mastery of your craft never fails to amaze me!

 

It's fully 1/10th of the fanfic. LOL

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

My body is ready.

[Mara=^.^=]

My body is ready.

 

Pretty sure it isn't

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

Are you kidding? I am like a little kid waiting for their favorite treat which is decadent and delightful even if it causes me to yell incoherently. I say Bring. It. On.

[Mara=^.^=]

Welp, I finally finished this godforsaken, shambling monstrosity. Hope you enjoy! I spent 100,000 words building up to this.

(Thanks again for listening to me complain, Katie! It really helped clarify what I should focus on.)

 

 MATURE CONTENT WARNING: tastefully described but vividly detailed sex scene 

If for some reason you're uncomfortable with reading explicit material, but you still want to continue with the fic, you can read this censored version instead. It contains a steamy makeout and ends with a fade-to-black instead of on-screen sex.

 

 

CHAPTER 31: DISARMAMENT

 

*****************************************************

 

As they entered the bedroom, Tex surreptitiously unfastened her top two buttons, just in case he needed some encouragement.

 

His attention was occupied elsewhere. "Hold this," he said, passing her the lamp.

 

He fished around inside the nightstand until he recovered a skeleton key buried beneath various odds and ends.

 

The trapdoor, she thought. Of course that's what he meant.

 

He dragged the rug out of the way, then crouched and fiddled with the lock; seconds later, it popped open and clanked to the floor. He kicked it aside and lifted the hatch, sending a plume of dust into the air. Tex coughed into her elbow as she gave him back the lamp.

 

"Down?" she confirmed.

 

He nodded. "Watch your step – and shut the door behind you."

 

Together, they descended into darkness. The wooden stairs creaked beneath their feet, and the scent of lanolin and musty paper was so strong that Tex could taste the acrid mixture on her tongue. When they reached the basement floor, he raised his beacon higher to illuminate the room. She glanced around. To her left, she spied vegetables, canned goods, and other root cellar provisions. To her right, a brass armillary sphere glimmered in the lamplight. Beyond it, a floor-to-ceiling bookcase occupied the wall; a cursory inspection revealed titles written in Latin, German, and French.

 

"Do you speak all these languages?" she asked.

 

"I read them all fluently. My spoken French is passable, but I've been told my German accent borders on insulting."

 

"I studied Latin," she said. "You need it for the legal field. And I can haggle in Spanish, Apache, and Chinese."

 

"Tonal languages? Impressive. I'd love to hear that story someday."

 

Tex shifted her attention back to her surroundings. She approached the armillary sphere, frowning as she recalled her first visit to the house.

 

"This can't be everything," she muttered. "Where's the fireplace?"

 

He tapped the side of his head. "Smart," he lauded. "I underestimated you on Monday when I set our wager's terms. I offered hidden knowledge, but I was planning to deceive you. Had you bested me at cards, I would've brought you here, to my decoy antechamber – but it seems the ruse would not have fooled you after all. Observe."

 

He selected a hefty scarlet tome and removed it from the bookshelf; the gold-lettered spine read Vox Populi, Vox Dei. Tucking the volume under his arm, Mr. Neutron slipped his hand into the vacant slot. Tex heard a clicking sound, followed by the scrape of stone on stone. The whole bookcase began to swivel sideways.

 

"A false wall?" Her eyebrows shot up.

 

"What can I say? I have a flair for the dramatic."

 

"A flair for double-dealing, you mean. You really intended to cheat me if I won our Poker match?"

 

"Obviously. Why…did you expect me to play fair?"

 

"No," she admitted. "I would not respect you if you did."

 

"I don't gamble away my secrets. I only share them with the worthy." He returned the book to its slot. "Shall we?"

 

Tex peered into the gloom. "Should I be expecting booby traps?" she asked. "Crates full of snakes…a pit of spikes, perhaps?"

 

"Mmm. Spikes, snakes – the works. You'd best stick close to me."

 

"Very close," she agreed, latching onto his arm.

 

They grinned at each other. Lantern-hand extended, he led her forward into the waiting blackness. The shadows moved as they proceeded, creeping, panther-like, between the furnishings. Tantalizing glimpses beckoned her – here and there, metal objects gleamed like relics in a tomb. Another click, and the chamber sprang to life in a blinding flash of white. She squinted, eyes watering, but her discomfort was short-lived. Tex gazed around in wonder as the bookcase rotated shut.

 

He'd transported her into a different century. The room was spacious, clean, and decidedly industrial, with the futuristic trappings of a World's Fair exhibition. Multiple discrete workstations subdivided the space. Clusters of freestanding shelves showcased a bevy of gadgets, books, and tools. She quickly located the fireplace; inside, a copper boiler crouched on stilts. To her surprise, the hearth was not the source of ambient light – the incandescence came instead from a row of delicate glass spheres mounted on the walls.

 

"Lamps that burn without flame," she marveled. "This is like something out of Jules Verne."

 

He gave a little bow. "Welcome to my laboratory."

 

Tex turned in a slow circle, taking in the sights. "The spheres," she began. "What makes them glow?"

 

"The relentless desert wind. I built an electricity-generating turbine near the gully – you probably mistook it for a windmill. It charges a bank of accumulators, which I use to power the equipment in my lab."

 

"But not the rest of the house?"

 

"Just the telegraph machine. I'm not crazy enough to put electric lights upstairs. I don't want to invite the scrutiny of scientifically-illiterate neighbors. The last time I got cocky with my research, people accused me of consorting with the devil."

 

Still agog, Tex meandered toward the nearest set of furnishings. He set aside the lamp, clasped his hands behind his back, and followed.

 

"My chemistry station," he summarized, as she approached a table covered in beakers, rubber tubes, and looping glassware.

 

"Is this where you concocted your hangover cure?" she asked. A dog-eared notebook labeled Phytochem. Exp. lay propped against a Bunsen burner.

 

"Mm-hmm. And my Crabgrass Accelerator, and my Anti-Aging Tonic. I'm a better engineer than I am a chemist, but my skills are steadily improving."

 

"Crabgrass Accelerator?"

 

"In some parts of the world, it's actually a staple crop. And Carl's llamas love it."

 

"Huh." She studied a row of empty vials. "Could you make inoculations here?"

 

"Invent them, you mean? I'd need more specialized equipment, but in theory, yes. Creating new vaccines is certainly a goal of mine. New medicines, too, if I can manage it."

 

"I want to help you," she said, picking up the notebook. "I'm no mechanician, but pharmacology appeals to me. I'm confident I could contribute if I had the right instruction."

 

He gave her an appraising look. "I'll send away for a lab coat," he said.

 

Tex was underselling her level of experience. Her expertise as an assassin was not limited to firearms and knives; she was skilled in poisons and toxic herbs, and she'd made use of them on more than one occasion. She leafed through the notebook's contents with a discerning eye.

 

"C'mon," he nudged excitedly. "I want to introduce you to more of my creations. There's several here I think you might enjoy."

 

Amused, she snapped the notebook shut. She followed him as he skirted the periphery, striding past a narrow bed, a storage chest, and a door leading to a privy. He tossed his hat onto the cot as they proceeded; it bounced off the mattress and landed on the floor.

 

He keeps a bed in his lab? she mused.

 

He noticed the direction of her gaze. "Sometimes I lock myself down here for days at a time," he shared, with a manic gleam in his eyes.

 

She stooped to peer into a flask with an eyeball floating in it. "That sounds both healthy and normal."

 

Undeterred, he put an arm around her and steered her toward a dinged-up carpenter's table. A hammer, a hacksaw, and a bar clamp were among the tools hanging from the backboard. Various half-finished projects occupied the surface. A cast-iron vise secured a cedar board in place; beneath it, a sprinkling of sawdust speckled the floor.

 

"Straight to the wood-working bench, eh Neutron? Are you tryin' to send me a message?"

 

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" he grumbled. "You'll be subjecting me to puerile innuendo until your dying day."

 

"Beyond my dying day. I shall have an image of a lumber pile engraved upon my tombstone."

 

"Then I shall put a ball-been hammer on mine. I'd prefer it if our gravestones matched, so that everyone might know how we antagonized each other."

 

Tex laughed, and he released her from his grasp. She turned and smiled up at him.

 

"Stop smiling at me," he said. "Turn around, and smile at my invention. I'm trying to show it to you."

 

She looked over at the table. He patted a wooden bucket bristling with knobs.

 

"This is the 'Ice-O-Matic' – my state-of-the-art ice cream machine. My design improves upon the hand-crank models currently in circulation. It's faster, more compact, and less physically demanding to operate."

 

Suddenly, she was all ears. "Ice cream?" she repeated. "How? Where do you source your ice?"

 

"I don't 'source' it; I create it. I built an icemaker to go with my refrigerator. It's over yonder, by the lead-acid batteries."

 

Tex had only eaten ice cream once before, but the experience had left a lasting impression. She immediately started salivating.

 

"I'm going to have ice cream for breakfast," she said.

 

"You most certainly are not. We are going to have oatmeal, like sensible adults. If you eat nothing but sugar, your teeth will rot and fall out of your head."

 

"So? Build a machine to chew my food for me."

 

He tried not to laugh. "We can have some after dinner. Does that mollify you?"

 

Appeased, Tex brightened, and he resumed his exposition. He pushed aside a container full of nails, revealing a lacquered hardwood box. He plucked it from the table and presented it to her.

 

"This is a birthday gift for Sheen. I call it 'The Neutron Camp-In-A-Box' – the perfect companion for the overburdened traveler. Pull the latch like so, and it unpacks into a fully functional campsite, complete with luxurious amenities."

 

"How does all that fit in there?" She squinted at the small dark case.

 

"Vacuum packaging. The problem is getting it back into the box once it's been opened. I'm still working on that part."

 

He set the invention down, and she gazed around the room a second time, reconsidering the gadgets and appliances. She asked the obvious question.

 

"Have you sought patents for any of these things?"

 

"Not exactly. I've considered bringing my ice cream machine and my dishwasher to market, but…"

 

"But what?"

 

Mr. Neutron gazed at the floor. "My creations have a way of hurting people," he said quietly. "It's better if they stay locked away down here, where they can't do any damage."

 

It pained Tex to see the joy drain out of his face. Instinctively, she took his hand in hers.

 

"My dearest Sheriff. There's a world of difference between a dishwasher and a Gatling gun."

 

He mumbled something unintelligible and fidgeted uncomfortably. This is an open wound, she thought. For now, all she could do was administer a salve.

 

She kissed his knuckles, then threaded her fingers through his.

 

"Jeez," he smiled sheepishly. "You're making me look bad. I'm supposed to be the gallant one."

 

Hand in hand, they continued their counter-clockwise promenade. They passed by a whimsical novelty rack, and he entertained her with a self-operating toothbrush, spring-loaded shoes, and a hieroglyphics translator comprised of rotating dials. Afterward, he showed her some designs for budget-conscious indoor plumbing.

 

"Wealthy folks back East have already adopted these conveniences," he told her. "Someday, the cost will come down, and running water will be accessible to everyone. Flush toilets, faucet sinks, and heated bathtubs too."

 

As they reached the far side of the lab, they came upon a grim, imposing shelf. There were no gleaming relics in this collection – every item on display was charred, fractured, melted, or deliberately dismantled. The only flawless piece was a perfume bottle labeled with a bright red skull and crossbones. Beneath it, a dangling placard read CAUTIONARY TALES.

 

"Did you build a shrine for your screw-ups?" she asked.

 

"That's…certainly one way to put it."

 

Tex perused the assemblage, then crouched to take a gander at the bottom rung. She picked up a grinning metal doll balanced on a single wheel.

 

"What's this?" she asked. She turned it over to check for signs of damage.

 

"The product of a lonely child's mind," he replied. "His name's Brotomaton."

 

"Odd name for a simulacrum." She gave the wheel a spin.

 

"The Bro is short for brother. I had no friends or siblings as a youth, so I built a mechanical companion for myself. I keep him here as a memento – and as a reminder of the tacit threat. Secrecy is preferable to ostracism."

 

"Surely you don't think Sheen and Carl would reject you just because you're unconventional."

 

"No. They've seen this place. They accept me as I am, and I'm grateful for it, truly."

 

"Then why do you sound so discontented?"

 

He sighed. "Sheen and Carl may affirm me, even love me, but they do not understand me. In that respect, I am utterly alone."

 

She gently set the automaton down. "I know that loneliness," she imparted.

 

"I want you to understand me," he said earnestly.

 

Tex’s stomach did a flip. Can I give him that? she wondered. Just last night, I thought he meant to kill me. My paranoia poisons everything it touches.

 

He was a man who kept track of his mistakes. She did not want to wind up on this shelf.

 

She did not have long to mull it over. He reached above her head and picked up a colorful, unsettling contraption. It resembled a pistol welded to a dinner plate. Two sinister metal prongs occupied the space where the barrel ought to be; the trigger was missing entirely. She stood.

 

"This," he segued, "is but one branch on the tree of my poor judgment. When I was 18, I became obsessed with the concept of hypnosis – not as a parlor trick, but as a tool for mind control. So I built this. A 'Hypno-Beam'." To demonstrate, he pointed the device at her. "Pull the trigger," he narrated, "and prismatic arc-lights confuse and disorient the target, inducing a trance-like state that leaves them open to suggestion. Or that's the idea, anyhow."

 

Tex hazarded a guess. "Did you test it on your parents?"

 

He winced. "I did. I wanted them to love me," he admitted. "I thought…if I could compel them to give away their wealth, they might come to see things differently. Obviously, my invention didn't function as intended. My father fainted, and my mother developed a weeklong, debilitating headache. Had I tinkered with it more, perhaps I could've gotten it to work, but it occurred to me belatedly that what I was doing was insane. You can't force someone to be a better person."

 

She stared at him. She imagined him standing in that grand and distant house, aiming a psychic flintlock at his mother's face.

 

"Change requires intrinsic, not extrinsic, motivation," he went on. "People can turn over a new leaf, but they have to want it for themselves. Like you." He touched her cheek. He still had his fiendish invention in his hand. "Tex," he said.

 

Suddenly, he was very, very close. From force of habit, the outlaw started to retreat, and he backed her up against a drafting table. She caught herself on the corner.

 

Tex rolled her eyes. "Just kiss me," she told him.

 

He seized her around the waist, and she was more than happy to fling her arms around him. There was no caution to the kiss she gave. Seek the flames, the vestige spoke. Know beauty for an instant. Her breath left her lungs in a rush, and her hat fell to the ground as they fumbled and grabbed at one another. The stock of the Hypno-Beam dug into her back. They bumped into the table, and he pulled away, exhaling suddenly.

 

"Forgive me," he said shakily. He took a step back, one hand on her shoulder. "I'm rushing things. Give me a minute to cool off."

 

Tex battled disappointment. She almost argued with him. Stop, she told herself. You need to be mindful of his comfort. If he wanted to show her his whole damn lab before he kissed her, that was his prerogative. He didn't owe her anything.

 

"Come on," he motioned, returning his invention to the shelf. "There's one more point of interest on the tour."

 

He took her hand again. They approached a workbench located in the very center of the room. Piles of schematics lay heaped on its surface, partially obscuring a sundry array of gadgets and component parts.

 

"My indestructible, all-purpose bench," he related. "This is where I test some of my riskier prototypes." He circled the fixture, running his hand along the edge. "See that varnish? It's water, fire, and scratch resistant."

 

His sleeve was rolled up to the elbow, and she ogled his forearm like a pent-up teenaged Puritan.

 

I'm going to climb him like a tree, she thought.

 

He returned to his starting point. Tex removed her bandolier, then interposed herself between the Sheriff and the table. There was a vacant spot just large enough to sit on, so she hopped up backward and settled onto it. Her legs dangled over the side. She tilted her head and kicked her feet in what she hoped was a fetching manner.

 

"So," she flirted. "Do you want to hear my verdict?"

 

He leaned against the bench. "Let me guess: you're consumed by lust for me on account of my fantastical inventions. Also, you're incredibly impressed."

 

That's not far off, she thought.

 

"Neutron, to say that I'm 'impressed' does not do justice to my partiality. This place is amazing. You're amazing."

 

"Strong praise, coming from you."

 

"It should be. You did more than just fulfill the terms of our agreement. You took the time to teach me things. You challenged me, questioned me. When you saw me hurting, you offered comfort, even though I'd done nothing to deserve it. Do you know how rare that is?"

 

He averted his eyes. "Not as rare as you think."

 

"Not in your world. In mine."

 

"Then it's a good thing you're leaving it behind."

 

Thanks to you, she thought. Tex repositioned so that she could initiate a kiss, but the heel of her hand landed on something narrow and cylindrical. Her wrist rolled backward, and pain lanced up her arm; she looked down reflexively. The glint of metal caught her eye. She brushed aside a folded-up schematic and found rifle ammunition underneath. There was something strange about it – the cartridges were made of standard brass, but the bullets had a malformed, blueish-silver tip. She picked one up and frowned at it, then took a closer look at the schematic.

 

"These are munitions plans," she muttered. "I thought you'd sworn off designing weapons?"

 

He took the paper from her and laid it on the stack. "An unfortunate necessity in my line of work," he said. "But I've found a way to minimize the damage." He picked up a projectile. "These are Piezoelectric Shockrounds, a non-lethal form of ammunition. You can think of them as lightning in a cartridge – they incapacitate a man instead of killing him."

 

"They paralyze?"

 

"Induce unconsciousness," he clarified. He nodded toward a rifle mounted near the fireplace. "I commissioned this batch here for that long gun on the wall, but I've been workshopping another caliber as well. They're still just prototypes, but I can show you if –"

 

He reached toward her holster, then froze, stopping just inches from his misappropriated pistol.

 

"May I?" he murmured.

 

Tex looked down. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded, and he wrapped his fingers around the ivory handle. She watched, spell-bound, as he slowly eased the weapon from its sheath. Reflections danced along the barrel when he brought it up into the light; it was a beautifully-wrought firearm, though perhaps not as striking as hers. Careful not to fix her in its sights, he tipped the barrel toward the ceiling and tugged the latch which kept the cylinder in place. It swiveled open with a click.

 

"Look," he said. He tipped the gun sideways, and six blue-tinged bullets fell into his waiting palm. He held the rounds between them like an offering.

 

Tex was astonished. "This whole time…you had Shockrounds in your gun?"

 

"To be honest, I'm surprised you didn't notice."

 

She shook her head in wonder. "I checked to see if there were bullets in the chamber, but I never took them out, and…the rims look so similar, I never imagined…"

 

He kissed her softly, and the words died on her tongue. Tilting his hand, he let the bullets rain down on the tabletop, and then he set the weapon down and pushed it out of sight. She heard the metal scraping against the surface of the table as he gathered her body against his. Tex slid her fingers into his hair; he smelled of pine and old books, and his stubble added texture to their kisses. Desire melted over her like warm honey.

 

This cannot be real, she thought.

 

After a moment, he pulled away to smile at her, and the sweetness of that gesture was enough to break her heart. To think, she had almost killed this man! It was obscene.

 

"You can take the other one too, if you want," she whispered, and guided his hand to her belt.

 

The lawman's eyes widened, and he looked down. They both stared at it. The Emerald Ire.

 

He spoke. "You mean…"

 

She nodded. He popped the snap on her holster, and Tex's breathing quickened – but not from fear. Carefully, he took hold of the green handle. Her head swam as the revolver left its stronghold; for the first time in ten long years, it was in someone else's grasp. Under someone else's authority. The room felt boundless and hazy, like yesterday's dream. It was what she wanted.

 

He held the gun in front of her, and for an instant, visions of violence and supremacy flashed through her mind. Then they were gone, and he gently placed the body of the pistol against his upturned palm.

 

The Emerald Ire glimmered in the spherelight, and in a surreal moment of concurrence, she saw it through his eyes: an instrument of death, brought before him for analysis…and disassembly. He turned the weapon over, examining both sides, then popped open the cylinder and peered inside. Frowning, he removed a single bullet, squinted at it, and held it up above his head for inspection. Satisfied, he slid it back into the chamber and spun the cylinder shut.

 

He returned the revolver to his palm, and she watched, breathless, as he tilted it back and forth to catch the light. A spray of reflections danced over his face and cartwheeled onto the wall – tiny stars, brought to life for a fraction of a second. A tingling sensation traveled up her spine. The gun was singing, as it always did, but the tune bore no resemblance to a dirge.

 

"It's well-balanced," he remarked, running his fingers along the length of the barrel. "And oiled to perfection."

 

He traced the curve of the trigger guard, then rubbed his thumb over the rear sight and pulled back the hammer. Heat flared to life in Tex's cheeks…and other places.

 

How can a man be so damn indecent without being indecent at all? she wondered. When he gave the cylinder another spin, her imagination spun with it.

 

Tex continued entertaining rakish thoughts while he finished his examination. When he was done, he held the firearm out to her, handle-first, but she shook her head.

 

"Put it with yours," she instructed.

 

He set it down. She kept her gaze on his face. He slid it away.

 

"So you see," she said.

 

He leaned forward and placed one palm on either side of her. He was so close that she could feel his body heat.

 

"You are so compelling," he marveled, as his eyes roved over her face. "One minute, you're like Scylla, or Charybdis, and the next, you go and do something like this. I've never been afraid of you, Vortex, not for a single second – not even when you jammed a gun into my gut. But now, I think I should be."

 

"What will you do with me?" she asked. Her heart was beating rapidly.

 

He reached up with his knuckle and lifted her chin. Tex swallowed nervously as he tilted her head, admiring the different angles of her jaw.

 

"So beautiful," he murmured.

 

He slid his fingers under the left side of her collar, where her bruise was at its lightest. He bent the cloth away from her skin.

 

"Stop me if this hurts you," he said.

 

He bent and kissed her neck. Tex inhaled sharply. The touch of his lips sent a jolt racing through her body. Softness, and warmth, followed by the sandpaper scratch of his stubble. She did not speak, so he kept going, working his way across the most sensitive part of her throat. Her wolf-brain growled, he'll tear it out! A primal thrill coursed through her.

 

When he made it to the other side, he loosened a third button, exposing her décolletage. His lips traveled south. Halfway down, he lit upon her bruise; pain spiked, and her breathing hitched. He did not stop. He gripped her thigh with his palm as he continued trailing kisses down her neck. Her mouth parted slightly.

 

I'm in trouble, she thought.

 

When he reached the bottom, he stopped, hanging in the space between her shoulder and her neck. He shifted upward.

 

"Tex," he whispered, right against her ear. "I want you to spend the night with me."

 

She shivered. His breath was warm on her skin. "All right," she said.

 

"Don't say yes unless you really mean it. You don't owe me sex as payment for my clemency."

 

"You're kind, but I can assure you, I would not let you touch me if I had any reservations."

 

He drew back to look her in the eye. "I need you to know that I don't take this sort of thing lightly. If there are…unplanned consequences, I'll do right by you."

 

"I know. I trust you."

 

There would not be unplanned consequences. Tex refused to abide by the rules of motherhood roulette. Her skill at herbcraft afforded her this option; she always carried a custom Pennyroyal tincture in her coat, just in case she was assaulted. She had no qualms about using it to end a pregnancy, no matter who the father was. She would not, could not, settle for a marriage of obligation. It would hang like a millstone round her neck. She would doubt him always.

 

"Would you prefer to go upstairs?" he asked. "It might be more comfortable for you."

 

"What, and deprive you of your fantasy? You don't want me in the boudoir – you want to seduce me in your secret lair. That's why you brought me down here in the first place."

 

He chuckled self-consciously. "I fear you may understand me a little too well."

 

"Sheriff. You need not repress yourself to cater to my femininity. I'm not some wilting gardenia in need of careful tending. I'm yours for the taking, so take me."

 

"All right," he shrugged. "Say your prayers."

 

Tex laughed. Grinning, he kissed her, and she smiled against his mouth. Now that all their cards were on the table, it was easy to be tender with him. She kissed him slowly, leisurely. She slid her hands up his chest, seeking out all of the places that had been denied to her before. The fabric of his vest was silk-smooth, and cool on the surface. She slipped her hands inside, where it was warm, then drew him closer, deepening the kiss. She turned her head from side to side, gently exploring every angle.

 

"Mmm," he murmured, as she ministered to him. "You are so sweet. So sweet."

 

"I'm not."

 

"You are." His fingertips delicately skimmed her cheek. "You're just out of practice."

 

He took the lead again, sidling near to get a better grip. He ran his hands up and down her sides, and heat radiated down both her legs.

 

"Heh," he snickered.

 

"What? What's so funny?"

 

"Your fixation on dessert," he answered. "You taste like maple candy."

 

He bumped noses with her, smiling, then kissed her again. She melted into it. He moved down to her neck, then lower, and when he reached her collarbone, he slid his palms onto her lower back and pulled her hips against his. Tex saw stars.

 

He kept doing what he was doing, and Tex realized that tonight was going to be even better than expected. It was easy, so easy, to lose herself when she was with him. No regret, no guilt – no past at all. She was not Tex the Tragedy or Tex the Hired Gun. She was not a story.

 

Mr. Neutron buried his fingers in her hair, exhaling warm air into her mouth. She touched his jaw, relishing the prickle of his five o'clock shadow. Elsewhere, his skin was soft – much softer than her calluses. She scooted forward so she could press herself against him. He dipped her back along their mutual center of gravity, and her ponytail grazed the surface of the bench.

 

"God, you are really good at this," she said.

 

"I don't know why. It's not like I've been suave all my life. It just comes naturally with you. You make me feel like I can do anything."

 

"You can," she flirted. "I'll let you."

 

He kissed her again, and this time, there was heat to it. Slowly, the energy between them built. He kissed her lips, then her neck, then her lips again – he dragged his fingers through her hair until her ponytail came loose. He tossed the hairband aside, then took her face in his hands. Over and over he kissed her, like he meant to devour her. One of the bullets rolled off the edge of the table and fell to the ground with a clink.

 

He stopped to take a shaky breath while he looked down at the casing.

 

“Can’t get enough of me, huh?” she teased.
 

“No…no, I can’t.” He settled one palm on her bust. “Um, can I –”

 

"Put your hands on me," she commanded.

 

Tex kissed his neck and jaw while he took liberties. While she was down below his chin, he swallowed, and his Adam's apple dipped and rose. She sensed his vulnerability keenly, and it weighed on her. There were so many ways to kill a man, and so very few ways to save one.

 

With a bit of effort, she pushed it from her mind. They went back and forth, carefully testing out each other's boundaries. Her boldness grew quickly – much more quickly than his – but what he lacked in speed, he made up for in intensity. His touch was electric. He courted dissolution until her head felt like it was floating on a string.

 

A strand of hair got caught on her lips, and he brushed it out of the way. "Dear God, I want you," he exhaled.

 

The breathless desperation in his voice made Tex's blood run hot. She looked down at his waist, his hips. It was still too soon for acts of ribald wickedness, but if she played her cards right, perhaps tomorrow night she could convince him to have his way with her right here on the table. She nuzzled him, then tugged his shirt out of his waistband.

 

"More?" he prompted gruffly.

 

"More."

 

He took hold of her shirt and tried to wrest it free, but she was sitting on the hem. Tex listed to starboard.

 

"What in the –?" He bent to examine the snag. "Did you glue your shirt to your pants?" He yanked harder.

 

"Move!" she laughed, pushing him back. She hopped down off the workbench, but she didn't get very far.

 

He grabbed her by the belt. "Come here," he demanded.

 

Tex stumbled into his embrace.

 

He kissed her feverishly, wantonly groping at her hindquarters. She left the ground for a moment, and they turned a partial circle around each other. Her audacity warred with her inhibition as they narrowly avoided collisions with the furnishings. Finally, restraint became impossible, and she placed her palms on his shoulders and drove him toward the wall. He grinned, then tripped over a random book that he'd left lying around.

 

"Quit throwing your shit all over the floor!" she chastised.

 

"I'll throw anything I want, anywhere I want, any time I want," he defied, tugging at her clothes.

 

This time, he managed to get her shirt loose. He ran his hands up the bare skin of her back, and she shoved him up against the wall.

 

"Look at me," she said possessively.

 

He cursed, and she kissed him. Tex was every bit as strong as he was, and far more physically skilled. It was easy to pin him in place; it drove her wild to feel him struggling against her. Her kisses grew rougher as she unclasped his belt.

 

"I'm going to ruin you," she breathed, against his open mouth.

 

He laugh-gasped. She lifted his shirt, exposing his stomach. Tex took her fingers for a walk down main street. She followed the line of wooly hair from his navel to his ceinture, then slipped her hand inside the fabric band.

 

"I wonder how far down this goes," she toyed, leering as he grimaced.

 

"Just take…my damn clothes off…" He couldn't do it himself.

 

Tex stripped off his vest. His badge fell to the earth, pinged once, and pinwheeled under the cot. A smug satisfaction settled over her. Let it stay there forever, she thought. I'll be his new vocation.

 

The outlaw was only distracted for a moment, but that was all he needed. He managed to wriggle out from underneath her, and after a brief scuffle, he reversed their positions. Her back slammed into the wall, and she gasped from the shock of it. Tex did not resist when he leaned his weight against her. After so many years of fending for herself – of fearing the intentions of every man who came within reach – this kind of trust was a powerful intoxicant. She gazed up at him with doe-eyed willingness.

 

The abrupt change in her demeanor gave him a moment's pause. He eased off and let her loop her arms around him, then hiked up her leg and hooked his arm underneath. Once she was positioned to his liking, he returned to his primary directive: dismantling the last of her defenses. He was so warm, so persuasive. He kissed her mouth, her jaw, her throat, her collarbone – she was drowning in him.

 

"I'm surprised you let me corner you like this," he confided. "Let me make it worth your while."

 

She murmured her approval, and he pushed his hips against hers, low and slow. She closed her eyes; her cheeks burned. He whispered to her, but despite the surging heat, she didn't make a sound.

 

"Do you like that?" he asked.

 

Tex dared not open up her mouth, lest she debase herself by telling him the truth: that she longed to be completely at his mercy, now that she had tasted it. To lie there, helpless and eager, while he overpowered her – not because she wanted him to hurt her, but because she was certain that he wouldn't. The fantasy became a kind of torment, sweet, and heady, and electrifying. She winced from discomfort and desire.

 

He abruptly pulled away. "Enough," he directed. "Undress me."

 

Tex staggered as she pushed off the wall. She went to work unbuttoning his shirt, but her efforts were stymied by his simultaneous attempt to remove hers. She gave his knuckles a little slap to make him wait his turn. After tugging his arms free of his sleeves, she tossed the garb on top of its predecessor. Mr. Neutron held still so that she could admire his physique, but Tex was caught up in her other senses – she settled her palms on his pectorals, relishing the goosebumps on his skin.

 

He mistook her silence for disappointment. "I know I'm not much to look at," he acknowledged nervously. "Not like Nick or Sheen. But I've gotten more muscular since I left the city –"

 

Tex grabbed him by the scruff and kissed him hungrily. Her enthusiasm left no room for insecurity. He began to back her toward the bed, then tensed when she started nibbling on his neck.

 

"Wildcat," he muttered, and seized her face again. Tex stared into his eyes; she was so dizzy, the corners of the room were beginning to blur. He kissed her, then softly bit her lower lip. A tiny sound escaped her throat.

 

Fire sparked in his gaze, and Tex saw her future – what he was going to do to her in a matter of mere minutes.

 

Take me apart, she thought. Hurry.

 

He steered her toward the bed while he unfastened her remaining buttons. She helped him with the last one.

 

"Holy shit," he said, when her top finally came off. He gawked at her. The garment slipped between his fingers and fell to the ground.

 

It should have been cute, but Tex was way past that. Flushed and wide-eyed, she pressed herself against him.

 

"Be rough with me," she urged.

 

He flung her onto the mattress. She tried to sit up, but he climbed on top of her and pinned her down. She laughed.

 

"Oooh," she teased, rolling her shoulders, "so obedient. I must have trained you well."

 

"Keep it up, you little minx, and I'll put my clothes back on," he threatened.

 

"You wouldn't dare."

 

He leered at her, then kissed her, and she kicked off her boots and wrapped her legs around him. She could feel his heart beating like a drum. Tex valiantly attempted to linger in the moment – to appreciate the silky slip of skin on skin – but she could not focus, now that she was under him. He propped himself up and slunk backward, kissing his way down her chest and stomach.

 

"I've been thinking about this all evening," he confessed. "Imagining the things I'd do to you if I could get you on your back."

 

Tex squirmed, red-faced, and pushed his head lower. He stopped beside the ugly pockmark on her abdomen, just above her hip – her old bullet wound.

 

"You have so many scars." He gently traced the edges of the mark. "God. How did you survive all this?"

 

She draped one forearm across her eyes. "Why are you still talking?"

 

He bent and kissed the slashmark on her ribs: a bar fight. A broken bottle. He caressed the gouge on her sternum: a knife-wielding stranger in her tent. She'd killed him with the blade he'd used to slice her blouse. The puncture wound near her clavicle: a rain-soaked target, brandishing a screwdriver.

 

Tex flinched. "Don't!" she said. "Don't do that."

 

"Oh," he cringed. "Sorry."

 

"Pretend they're not there. Pretend I'm like any other woman."

 

"Okay."

 

He moved back up to her mouth and kissed her the way she liked – deeply, searchingly – until the tension began to fade from her muscles. He slid his hands down her arms and took hold of her wrists, then pinned them in place on either side of her head. He kissed her throat, the curve of her shoulder, and her bust, slowly growing rougher as he went. She melted back into a puddle.

 

When he returned to her mouth again, his hot breath mixed with her own, and she whimpered almost imperceptibly. It was too much for him. He sat up and fumbled with the buckle on her belt.

 

Be mindful of his comfort, her addled brain advised.

 

Tex's belt went over the side, and he hastily unbuttoned her pants. The bed creaked as he disrobed her. She was in a rush to do the same to him, but he pushed her back down onto the mattress. He kissed her, hard, then buried his face in her neck. A twinge of pain shot out from her bruise. Her hair was everywhere – hopelessly tangled in the pillowcase, the sheets, and between his fingers. She could not see straight.

 

He kneaded her chest, kissing her desperately, and her thoughts shrank until there was only one word left in her vocabulary. More. More of his hands, more of his mouth, more of him. It was the kind of madness that could get a woman killed.

 

She yanked on his belt, and that finally got his attention. He straightened and attempted to remove his trousers, but there simply wasn't enough room for him to maneuver, and awkward blundering ensued. She sat up to watch the show, and he raised his arm to block her view.

 

"Stop rubbernecking," he told her. "I look like an idiot."

 

He yanked his ankle free, and Tex treated him to a round of mock applause. He tossed the rest of his clothes, then half-fell, half-crawled on top of her.

 

"You'll pay for that later," he said.

 

He slipped his hand between her legs, and ran his palm up and down the underside of her bare thigh. She grimaced. Relentless, he continued. He warmed her up with his hand.

 

I'll be damned, she thought. The men are learning – next, they'll be landing on the moon.

 

He turned slow circles with his fingers, and Tex grew taut and bit her lip. She blushed as one leg bunched itself up in the sheets. On some other night, it might have titillated her completely, but at present, it bordered on intolerable. She ached for him. Her impatience grew.

 

She let her hand drift down towards his stomach, and she gave him a little extra motivation.

 

As expected, this strategy produced immediate results. He withdrew his hand and grabbed her wrist. He instructed her in the correct technique, but not for long. The kissing resumed, and he gave her a series of quick little nips. She shivered.

 

"How do you want it?" he proffered. "I'll give it to you any way you like."

 

His tone made her toes curl. How did she want it? No one had ever asked her that before. It took a second for her to answer him.

 

"Do anything you want to me," she decided. "Only tell me that you need me while you do it."

 

He did not offer comment; instead, he filed it away for future use. He went back to kissing her neck, and she clung to him, dizzy with anticipation, as he shifted his position. He pushed her knees apart, and her heart rate soared. Tex draped her forearm across her face again. He rubbed himself against her, teasing, promising.

 

Despite her eagerness, the darkness she'd invited conjured up old fears. For an instant, she was afraid – afraid that this would all turn out to be a dream, and at daybreak, she would awaken, and find herself alone. She placed her palms on his skin, just to make sure he was real.

 

"Now?" he prompted.

 

"Now."

 

Tex cried out when he entered her – not from pain, but because it brought catharsis. The aching, burning emptiness finally subsided. She buried her face in the curve of his shoulder, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

 

He stopped cold. "Are you okay?" he asked, alarmed.

 

She nodded, face still hidden from him. "Go ahead," she whispered. So he did.

 

He was gentle at first – almost hesitant – but in the moment, the details were irrelevant. After so many years of loneliness, all she really wanted was to hold him. Let him take whatever time he needs, she thought. She would be satisfied with anything he gave her.

 

He kissed her several times and shifted to optimize his angle. "Is this good?" he checked.

 

She did not speak. She caressed his lower back, then guided him in deeper.

 

"Mmm," he appreciated, and kissed her again, before resuming his restrained and cautious tempo. He exhaled rhythmically, and she relished the wordless declaration of his ardor. She could not communicate her sentiments, but it did not change her craving for him.

 

Please don't stop, she thought.

 

She beseeched him with kisses, then crooned and arched her back a little. Her response increased his confidence. The box-spring squeaked as he grew bolder with her.

 

"You're so quiet," he murmured. "You don't have to hold it in." He nibbled on her earlobe. "Make some more of those little noises for me."

 

Tex preferred to stay silent so that she could listen to the sounds of his intemperance, but she wanted to please him, and all and all, it was a small concession. She gave him the performance he'd requested. She gasped softly, faintly, in time with the sinuous motion of his hips. He did not rush; he rocked her slowly, and the room receded into nothingness.

 

When that ceased to be enough for him, he repositioned so that he could look her in the eye. For Tex, it was too intense, too intimate. She clammed up and shied away.

 

"Please look at me," he bade.

 

She closed her eyes. He kissed her neck and throat to coax her, sultry and sweet. "Tex," he whispered, more than once. He stroked her head, and twined his fingers in her hair. "Please."

 

The outlaw summoned up her courage. She turned her mad eyes toward him, and got a pair to match. His gaze burned blue-hot; it was almost unnerving. He rewarded her with a steady, authoritative rhythm, and she squirmed and dug one heel into the mattress.

 

"Jesus," she exclaimed.

 

"…Oh," he said, with an air of self-reproach. "Right."

 

He increased his forcefulness, and Tex braced herself against the headboard in surprise. He continued, resolute, pushing past his sweetness and her reticence. Her mouth fell open, and stayed that way. She grasped his shoulder blade. Overcome, she sank into rose-colored delirium.

 

"Better?" he asked.

 

She could not speak; she could only grip his back and ride the storm. Emboldened, he grabbed her thigh and held it.

 

"You're not gonna kill me now, are you, woman?" he incited, in a tone that made her entire body tingle.

 

She let her tongue off its leash. "No," she pleaded. "I want you. I…"

 

He cut her off. He kissed her roughly and grabbed the headboard with his other hand. Using it for leverage, he dragged his hips against hers.

 

Tex saw stars again. She gasped repeatedly, and this time, the sounds were not artificial. She did not even try to get her bearings. She begged him for it.

 

"Please, ah, please…!"

 

He dropped his head and muttered nonsense in her ear. His moniker was on her tongue and in the air, but the two did not seem connected. She floundered in the whitecaps.

 

Despite her sonorous expressions of approval, he could not keep up that level of exertion. Panting, he eased off just a little to recoup. He nuzzled her, then apologetically caressed her thigh where he'd been clasping it. "I need you," he told her.

 

Tex did not believe him, but it didn't matter. His touch freed her from the prison of existence. He kissed her, bit her, purified her. Holy Fire, brought to earth and given mortal form. She chased the spark that would bring obliteration.

 

The Sheriff redoubled his efforts, and somewhere in the midst of it, his breathing started to grow ragged.

 

He spoke while he was still cogent. "Should I pull out?" he asked.

 

Tex gazed up at the ceiling. She ought to say yes; it was the only sensible answer. But sense had long since exited the premises. She wanted to provide him with release. To be filled, and claimed, and elevated. Other men might sully her, but he would make her better than she was.

 

"No," she replied. "Don't. I want you to…"

 

She trailed off, but he got the message. A low, pained moan escaped his throat. Tex was so far gone that it almost did her in. How will it feel? she wondered.

 

He increased his pace, and she slid her palms up his spine and buried her fingers in his hair. The nape of his neck was damp, just like it had been when they were dancing. She'd known then where all of this would lead. She murmured breathy exhortations while he bumped and jostled her. He was fast unraveling, and his rough handling drove her to the brink.

 

"Tex," he rasped. "I'm sorry…I can't…"

 

"Shh," she breathed. "It's okay. It's okay."

 

She closed her eyes and waited. A moment later, he gasped, and spasmed, and filled her with a warm, satiating wetness. It was more than enough to push her over the edge. The world expanded into radiance – heat, and weightlessness, and light. She cried out, shuddering and clawing at his back.

 

He swore, then collapsed onto her, heart hammering in his chest. Both of them were tacky with sweat. They fell silent for a moment while they caught their breath. When she was herself again, she kissed the side of his head.

 

"Thank you," she said.

 

He laughed lightly, and she felt his stomach clench. His breath tickled her.

 

He raised himself up on his forearms. "That good, huh?" he joked. She smiled at him. He gave her a deep, lingering kiss. "You're amazing," he told her.

 

They did not remain entwined for long. She tried to fix her tangled hair, and he withdrew and sat up. He stared down at her body, both hands on her knees. His sticky handiwork dribbled out of her.

 

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I've made a mess of you." He nodded toward the washroom. "Why don't you go and get yourself cleaned up."

 

Tex gingerly rolled out of bed. He leaned back and relaxed while she went to do her business. She sat there in the darkness of the privy, still reeling from what they'd done together. It felt raw, and unreal, and yet, she wanted more of him. She hurried back, and he got up to take his turn. As they crossed paths, he smacked her on the bottom; she yelped and tried to swat him back, but he grinned and disappeared behind the door.

 

She crawled under the blankets and shivered while she waited for him. He returned, carrying a washcloth that he folded over the baseboard. He crawled in next to her and flopped down in the narrow space beside the wall. She rushed to snuggle up to him.

 

Now that it was over, a girlish shyness took hold of her. She covered herself with the sheet while he gently ran his fingers up and down her arm. She yearned for reassurance, but he said nothing, and in the silence, her insecurities came calling, even though she knew they were irrational.

 

"Do you still like me?" she asked, in a small voice.

 

He looked at her with surprise, then pity. “Oh, God. Tex, my love, come here.” Mr. Neutron pulled her tight against him. He kissed her temple. “Of course I still like you. What kind of question is that?”

 

"Some men resent a woman once they've tarnished her."

 

"Well, I'm not one of those men. And if you find one in the wild, catch him, and I'll put him in a jar so we can study him."

 

She sighed. "I know. I know you're not a cad. But this is difficult for me. Caring for a man is such a risk."

 

"This is a risk for me, too," he said, and of course he was right. He had invited a murderer into his bed.

 

Tex thought about their situation. They were dangerous to one another, and they had the potential to damage each other badly. It would take care and patience to ensure that didn't happen.

 

"I'm willing to embrace the risk, if you are," she said. "I know I could fall in love with you, if I let myself."

 

"For me, it's already beginning," he shared.

 

He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. Reassured, she started kissing him, and after a while, nature took its course a second time. Her blustery confidence returned, and she rode him the way she'd been wanting to all evening. It was important that he remember who she was – she had power over him, and she would use it.

 

Afterward, they lay tangled up in each other, drifting peacefully in the spherelight. He started snoring, which annoyed her, but he stopped when she wedged herself under his arm. She studied the air vents in the ceiling, pondering the inner workings of his lab, and by extension, his mind. It all seemed so impossible, but it was true: he had chosen her of all women, and if she worked hard and proved her mettle, he would love her.

 

She curled up like a cat and closed her eyes. The world raged on outside, but down here, she was blanketed in possibility. Tomorrow, she would have to find a way to deal with Eustace, but for just a little while, she could rest.

 

Warm, and safe, and almost-loved. She slipped into balmy oblivion.

 

 

*****************************************************

 

Yeah, so...I really struggled with this chapter. It's the emotional and interpersonal climax of the narrative (no pun intended), and I wanted to make damn sure I got it right. Trust is a key theme in this story and a core aspect of the eroticism, so I explored it from as many angles as possible. I hope I was able to convey the characters' absolutely insane levels of chemistry, while also showing how that intense connection might leave Tex feeling vulnerable.
 

Anyway, tell me what you thought!
 

Did you catch all of the invention cameos? Here's a list! (I specify the name of the original if it's different than the name I gave it in the fanfic)
1) Vox Populi, Vox Dei (Vox – Jimmy's lab security system – first mentioned in Runaway Rocketboy)
2) Crabgrass Accelerator (The Feud)
3) Anti-Aging Tonic (Granny Baby)
4) Neutron Camp-In-A-Box (Aaughh! Wilderness!)
5) Self-operating toothbrush (Brush-O-Matic, the feature film)
6) Spring-loaded shoes (Bouncy Shoes, Fundemonium)
7) Egyptian hieroglyphics translator ('Sandskrit'-to-English Dictionary, Beach Party Mummy)
8) Brotomaton (Brobot, episode of the same name)
9) Hypno-Beam (Hypno-Birthday To You, among others)
 

HISTORICAL SHIT AND BULLSHIT SHIT
 

- Literary references: The Latin term Vox Populi, Vox Dei means 'the voice of the people is the voice of God'. A political treatise by that name was published in 1709, arguing that all humans are equal and that the common folk have the right to choose their own form of government. Jules Verne (1828-1905) was a French novelist, poet, and playwright. He's probably best remembered for his speculative fiction and adventure novels, especially Journey to the Center of the Earth (1864), Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas (1870), and Around the World in 80 Days (1873). Scylla and Charybdis appear in Homer's The Odyssey. These two terrifying female monsters sat on opposite sides of a narrow strait, presenting a lethal challenge to passing sailors.
- Fun fact: in the 1800s, lab coats were black, not white. Still Jimmy's fantasy, no doubt. lol. And now, some more fun facts...about real inventions!
- The history of the lightbulb is complicated. There have been so many iterations on the road to commercial viability that it's difficult to figure out who deserves the credit. So let's start at the beginning: in 1802, Humphry Davy invented the first electric light. He called it the 'Electric Arc Lamp', but it burned out quickly, and it was uncomfortably bright. Over the next 7 decades, a flurry of inventors around the globe experimented with incandescent lighting. What follows is a simplified timeline of the final years. 1874: Canadian medical electrician Henry Woodward (and his colleague Matthew Evans) filed a patent for an incandescent lightbulb. 1879: Thomas Edison bought their patent, made some improvements, and figured out a way to market it successfully. 1870-80: Across the pond, British physicist Joseph Swan independently invented and patented his own incandescent bulb. Similarities between Edison and Swan's inventions lead to legal disputes over the patents. 1880: Swan became the first person to illuminate his house with incandescent lighting. 1882: Edison developed a practical electrical distribution system, leading to the opening of the world's first power station in NYC. 1883: Edison and Swan stopped squabbling and joined forces, forming the Edison & Swan United Electric Light Company, or Ediswan.
- The first electricity-producing wind turbine was built in Scotland in 1887 by Professor James Blyth of Anderson's College, Glasgow. He installed the cloth-sailed turbine at his holiday cottage in the countryside. It charged a bank of accumulators developed by the Frenchman Camille Alphonse Faure, which in turn lit the cottage, thus making it the first house in the world to have its electricity supplied by wind power. He was capable of producing more than he needed, so he tried to offer some of it to the nearby townsfolk. They turned him down because electricity was quote "the work of the devil".
- In 1843, Nancy M. Johnson of Philadelphia received the first U.S. patent for a hand-cranked ice cream freezer. Nancy, a housewife-turned-inventor, came up with a design that incorporated ice, rock salt, and a pewter cylinder. Thanks to her machine, ice cream transitioned from an expensive treat reserved for the upper classes to something regular people could enjoy.
- I put an ice cream machine in this chapter specifically so I could talk about the one person who is almost single-handedly responsible for everything you love about ice cream: Agnes Bertha Marshall, an English culinary entrepreneur, inventor, and celebrity chef. She was basically the Gordon Ramsey of her day, if Gordon Ramsey were also a mechanical engineer. Born illegitimate and impoverished, she was the very model of a self-made businesswoman. In 1882, the Married Women's Property Act granted married women (limited) economic rights, and Agnes immediately went and bought the Lavenue Cookery School in Westminster, together with her husband. She changed its name to the Marshall's School of Cookery and turned it into a globally-respected culinary institution that taught high-end English, French, and foreign cuisine. Not long afterward, she created the Marshall's Patent Freezer, which was able to freeze a pint of ice cream in less than five minutes. Her design remains faster and more reliable than many electric ice cream machines today. In 1885, she published the first of four books: dubbed The Book of Ices, her inaugural work included 177 different ice cream and dessert recipes, along with numerous gorgeous illustrations. Her 1894 book, Fancy Ices, further expanded that list. She came up with the concept of ice cream cones, although hers were made out of almond. Before that, commercial ice cream was often sold frozen to metal rods which were licked clean and returned. Her unique flavors and colorful toppings catapulted ice cream into the public imagination, where it remains to this day, even though she herself has largely been forgotten.
- The term 'robot' was coined by Czech writer Karel Capek in his 1920 play, R.U.R. It comes from the Czech word robotnik, meaning 'forced worker'. Since the term did not exist in 1875, I had to rename Brobot – I changed the portmanteau from Bro+(ro)bot to Bro+(au)tomoton.
- Lead-Acid Batteries were invented in 1859 by the French physicist, Gaston Planté. They were the first type of rechargeable battery ever created. Western Union used them to power their telegraph machines.
- The first artificial refrigerator was designed by a Scottish professor named William Cullen in 1755. Cullen used a pump to create a partial vacuum over a container of diethyl ether, which then boiled, absorbing heat from the surrounding air. His refrigerator even created a small amount of ice, but at the time, he could find no practical application for his experiment.
- The 19th century was the beginning of the birth control revolution. The National Museum for Civil War Medicine delves into this topic extensively. In 1800, the U.S. had the highest birth rate in the world: on average, each woman gave birth to eight children. By 1900, that number had fallen to only three children per woman. So, what happened? Well, education happened, for one. Popular books like Fruits of Philosophy (Dr. Charles Knowlton, 1832) and The Book of Nature (James Ashton, 1859) provided frank, medically-accurate information about human reproduction. Another important factor was the growing availability of condoms. Prior to 1840, condoms were far too expensive for most people to afford, but mid-century innovations in the rubber manufacturing process allowed companies like Goodyear to produce them en masse (and hence the term "rubber" was born). Pessaries that blocked the cervix were also popular, as were antiseptic irrigants. Medication abortions and surgical abortions were widely performed; by 1860, 1 in 5 pregnancies ended in an abortion. Emmenagogues like Pennyroyal (which is not native to the U.S., but was introduced early in the colonial period) were administered in pill form or in tinctures and teas. Advertisements for these products were positively everywhere; to shield themselves from obscenity laws, manufacturers used veiled terms like "female pills" or "mother's friend", and promised to "relieve irregularities" for "ladies in a certain situation". These remedies were not regulated, so there was no guarantee of efficacy, and some contained toxic compounds like turpentine, making them potentially lethal. Unfortunately, there's something about politics that attracts men who are obsessed with controlling other people's genitals, and in 1872, Congress passed the Comstock Act, which made it illegal to ship birth control by mail. This created a HUGE barrier to obtaining contraceptives, and left many folks with few options besides coitus interruptus ("pulling out"), which is notoriously unreliable. In time, people found creative ways to get around this law, but the mouth-breathers weren't done with their crusade. Before 1880, abortions were legal in virtually every state up until the time of quickening, but in the 1880s, a massive conservative backlash against women's rights spread across the country, and laws were passed nationwide outlawing abortion. None of these laws stopped the practice, but they did make it more unsafe. This politicization of healthcare kicked off more than a century of medical persecution that continues to the present day.
- Tasers have long dominated the market, but Shockrounds (actual name) were patented in 2006. I've taken some artistic liberties with how they function, because hey, Jimmy is a genius, and I want to have some fun with zappy-zaps.
 

Vocab:
* Lanolin - a waxy grease secreted by the sebaceous glands of wool-bearing animals like sheep. Lanolin and its derivatives were (and are) a key ingredient in industrial lubricants, shoe polish, rust-preventive coatings, and other commercial products.
* Armillary Sphere - a model of objects in the sky, consisting of a spherical framework of rings, centered on the Sun. I chose to include this because it's the closest era-appropriate visual equivalent of Jimmy's classic Atom logo.
* Accumulator - a device which accepts energy, stores energy, and releases energy as needed (examples include: rechargeable batteries, mainsprings, capacitors, steam and hydraulic accumulators, etc.)
* Spherelight - the word 'lightbulb' did not enter the lexicon until the mid 1880s, so Tex refers to them as glass spheres.

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

I HAVE NEVER RUN ANYWHERE SO FAST. I’m LIKE A CAT ON CATNIP. SIT YOUR ASS DOWN, WOMAN. BECAUSE HERE COMES A KATIE REVIEW.

"As they entered the bedroom, Tex surreptitiously unfastened her top two buttons, just in case he needed some encouragement. His attention was occupied elsewhere. "Hold this," he said, passing her the lamp." Boy. Why are you not checking out the woman who is UNDRESSING HERSELF IN FRONT OF YOU? total Neutron move.

"The trapdoor, she thought. Of course that's what he meant." This made me laugh.

"He dragged the rug out of the way, then crouched and fiddled with the lock; seconds later, it popped open and clanked to the floor. He kicked it aside and lifted the hatch, sending a plume of dust into the air. Tex coughed into her elbow as she gave him back the lamp." I am so eager to see what awaits!

"Together, they descended into darkness. The wooden stairs creaked beneath their feet, and the scent of lanolin and musty paper was so strong that Tex could taste the acrid mixture on her tongue. " this was SOOO vivid.

"Do you speak all these languages?" she asked. "I read them all fluently. My spoken French is passable, but I've been told my German accent borders on insulting." I now have a pressing need to hear him speak in a German accent.

"This can't be everything," she muttered. "Where's the fireplace?" He tapped the side of his head. "Smart," he lauded. "I underestimated you on Monday when I set our wager's terms. I offered hidden knowledge, but I was planning to deceive you. Had you bested me at cards, I would've brought you here, to my decoy antechamber – but it seems the ruse would not have fooled you after all. Observe." that's right you underestimated her!

"He selected a hefty scarlet tome and removed it from the bookshelf; the gold-lettered spine read Vox Populi, Vox Dei. Tucking the volume under his arm, Mr. Neutron slipped his hand into the vacant slot. Tex heard a clicking sound, followed by the scrape of stone on stone. The whole bookcase began to swivel sideways. "A false wall?" Her eyebrows shot up. "What can I say? I have a flair for the dramatic." OH MY WORD. This was PERFECTION. What a wonderful way to reimagine the entrance to the lab.

"Obviously. Why…did you expect me to play fair?" "No," she admitted. "I would not respect you if you did." "I don't gamble away my secrets. I only share them with the worthy." The implication that he thinks she is worthy hangs right there, and it's TASTY.

"Tex peered into the gloom. "Should I be expecting booby traps?" she asked. "Crates full of snakes…a pit of spikes, perhaps?" I mean…….. I think you are going to encounter an entirely different kind of spike.

"Very close," she agreed, latching onto his arm." smooootttthh.

"They grinned at each other. Lantern-hand extended, he led her forward into the waiting blackness. The shadows moved as they proceeded, creeping, panther-like, between the furnishings. Tantalizing glimpses beckoned her – here and there, metal objects gleamed like relics in a tomb." This was both mysterious and tantalizing! Loved it!

"The room was spacious, clean, and decidedly industrial, with the futuristic trappings of a World's Fair exhibition. Multiple discrete workstations subdivided the space. Clusters of freestanding shelves showcased a bevy of gadgets, books, and tools. She quickly located the fireplace; inside, a copper boiler crouched on stilts. To her surprise, the hearth was not the source of ambient light – the incandescence came instead from a row of delicate glass spheres mounted on the walls." "Lamps that burn without flame," she marveled. "This is like something out of Jules Verne." And I MARVEL too. Not at the lab, at YOU. Seriously, I can picture all of this so clearly.

"He gave a little bow. "Welcome to my laboratory." Such a little show off. (Meant in an affectionate way).

"The relentless desert wind. I built an electricity-generating turbine near the gully – you probably mistook it for a windmill. It charges a bank of accumulators, which I use to power the equipment in my lab." "But not the rest of the house?" "Just the telegraph machine. I'm not crazy enough to put electric lights upstairs. I don't want to invite the scrutiny of scientifically-illiterate neighbors. The last time I got cocky with my research, people accused me of consorting with the devil." Okay, there is a lot to unpack here in just a few friggin lines. The fact that he's disguised his power source as a windmill is brilliant, and it makes total sense. And also that he doesn't want to draw attention to himself because he's had some bad experiences in the past. It made me sad.

"My chemistry station," he summarized, as she approached a table covered in beakers, rubber tubes, and looping glassware. "Is this where you concocted your hangover cure?" she asked. A dog-eared notebook labeled Phytochem. Exp. lay propped against a Bunsen burner. "Mm-hmm. And my Crabgrass Accelerator, and my Anti-Aging Tonic. I'm a better engineer than I am a chemist, but my skills are steadily improving." "Crabgrass Accelerator?" "In some parts of the world, it's actually a staple crop. And Carl's llamas love it." The way he's just saying these things as if they're not revolutionary is just mind-bending.

"Invent them, you mean? I'd need more specialized equipment, but in theory, yes. Creating new vaccines is certainly a goal of mine. New medicines, too, if I can manage it." again, I love the total sincerity and just… straightforward nature of this statement despite the fact that what he's saying is AMAZING.

"I want to help you," she said, picking up the notebook. "I'm no mechanician, but pharmacology appeals to me. I'm confident I could contribute if I had the right instruction. He gave her an appraising look. "I'll send away for a lab coat," he said." FLIRTING. More seriously, I do think they would make an excellent pair.

"Tex was underselling her level of experience. Her expertise as an assassin was not limited to firearms and knives; she was skilled in poisons and toxic herbs, and she'd made use of them on more than one occasion. She leafed through the notebook's contents with a discerning eye." Of course, she would have an understanding of herbs. What a woman.

"He noticed the direction of her gaze. "Sometimes I lock myself down here for days at a time," he shared, with a manic gleam in his eyes. She stooped to peer into a flask with an eyeball floating in it. "That sounds both healthy and normal." totally healthy and normal. Although I don't know if you should be talking about 'healthy' and 'normal' there, girl.

"Undeterred, he put an arm around her and steered her toward a dinged-up carpenter's table." I am such a sucker for casual touch.

"Various half-finished projects occupied the surface. A cast-iron vise secured a cedar board in place; beneath it, a sprinkling of sawdust speckled the floor." So tactile! SO vivid.

"Straight to the wood-working bench, eh Neutron? Are you tryin' to send me a message?""You're never going to let that go, are you?" he grumbled. "You'll be subjecting me to puerile innuendo until your dying day." "Beyond my dying day. I shall have an image of a lumber pile engraved upon my tombstone." "Then I shall put a ball-been hammer on mine. I'd prefer it if our gravestones matched, so that everyone might know how we antagonized each other." their banter is chefs kiss! I do have a feeling something is going to get good and pounded here.

"Stop smiling at me," he said. "Turn around, and smile at my invention. I'm trying to show it to you." this just made ME smile. Don't look at me, look at the thing I made! ((see my soul.))

"I don't 'source' it; I create it. I built an icemaker to go with my refrigerator. It's over yonder, by the lead-acid batteries." My jaw would literally be on the floor.

"I'm going to have ice cream for breakfast," she said. "You most certainly are not. We are going to have oatmeal, like sensible adults. If you eat nothing but sugar, your teeth will rot and fall out of your head." "So? Build a machine to chew my food for me." He tried not to laugh. "We can have some after dinner. Does that mollify you?" GOSH. These two are like balls bouncing off each other. (listen, I am writing this AFTER i read the chapter, it's not my fault that my mind is in the gutter.)

"This is a birthday gift for Sheen. I call it 'The Neutron Camp-In-A-Box' – the perfect companion for the overburdened traveler. Pull the latch like so, and it unpacks into a fully functional campsite, complete with luxurious amenities." That made this for Sheen to make his life easier- what a softie.

"Not exactly. I've considered bringing my ice cream machine and my dishwasher to market, but…" "But what?" Mr. Neutron gazed at the floor. "My creations have a way of hurting people," he said quietly. "It's better if they stay locked away down here, where they can't do any damage." This is such a vulnerable and raw thing to share with her.

"It pained Tex to see the joy drain out of his face. Instinctively, she took his hand in hers. "My dearest Sheriff. There's a world of difference between a dishwasher and a Gatling gun." He mumbled something unintelligible and fidgeted uncomfortably. This is an open wound, she thought. For now, all she could do was administer a salve. She kissed his knuckles, then threaded her fingers through his." So TENDER! And SOFT and sweet! The way she sees his hurt and longs to smooth it over because that's what you do when you care about someone—i am fine.

"There were no gleaming relics in this collection – every item on display was charred, fractured, melted, or deliberately dismantled. The only flawless piece was a perfume bottle labeled with a bright red skull and crossbones. Beneath it, a dangling placard read CAUTIONARY TALES. "Did you build a shrine for your screw-ups?" she asked. "That's…certainly one way to put it." Because if you see your failure, you can avoid it- because it reminds you of where you have been. And that he's showing her! THE TRUST, the openness?! that is good stuff.

"The product of a lonely child's mind," he replied. "His name's Brotomaton." "Odd name for a simulacrum." She gave the wheel a spin. "The Bro is short for brother. I had no friends or siblings as a youth, so I built a mechanical companion for myself. I keep him here as a memento – and as a reminder of the tacit threat. Secrecy is preferable to ostracism." Oh. OH. This HIT me right in the FEELS.

"He sighed. "Sheen and Carl may affirm me, even love me, but they do not understand me. In that respect, I am utterly alone." She gently set the automaton down. "I know that loneliness," she imparted." These two people are so wounded and so alone in their own ways, and it totally makes sense that they would feel drawn to each other.

"I want you to understand me," he said earnestly." OH JESUS. WHAT AN ADMISSION. I am fanning myself over here.

"Tex's stomach did a flip. Can I give him that? she wondered. Just last night, I thought he meant to kill me. My paranoia poisons everything it touches...and I don't want to wind up on this shelf." Oh, Tex.

"This," he segued, "is but one branch on the tree of my hubris. When I was 18, I became obsessed with the concept of hypnosis – not as a parlor trick, but as a tool for mind control. So I built this. A 'Hypno-Beam'." To demonstrate, he pointed the device at her. "Pull the trigger," he narrated, "and prismatic arc-lights confuse and disorient the target, inducing a trance-like state that leaves them open to suggestion. Or that's the idea, anyhow." Tex hazarded a guess. "Did you test it on your parents?" He winced. "I did. I wanted them to love me," he admitted. "I thought…if I could compel them to give away their wealth, they might come to see things differently. Obviously, my invention didn't function as intended. My father fainted, and my mother developed a weeklong, debilitating headache. Had I tinkered with it more, perhaps I could've gotten it to work, but it occurred to me belatedly that what I was doing was insane. You can't force someone to be a better person." WELL, YOU TOOK THAT INVENTION AND WRECKED ME. I still say this is a creepy af invention, but DAMN, you made it hold an entirely different kind of weight. The sheer desperation of someone who wanted to be WANTED so bad they literally invented a way to make it happen? EFFFF. And the crushing realization that no one can make someone be better? i AM GOING TO BITE YOU.

"She stared at him. She imagined him standing in that grand and distant house, aiming a psychic flintlock at his mother's face." BANG.

"Change requires intrinsic, not extrinsic, motivation," he went on. "People can turn over a new leaf, but they have to want it for themselves. Like you." He touched her cheek. He still had his fiendish invention in his hand. "Tex," he said." OH. This is so intimate, and they haven't even taken off their clothing. I LOVE that.

"Suddenly, he was very, very close. From force of habit, the outlaw started to retreat, and he backed her up against a drafting table. She caught herself on the corner." Because they push and pull. This is a courtship dance.

"Tex rolled her eyes. "Just kiss me," she told him." GET ITTT GIRRLLL

"He seized her around the waist, and she was more than happy to fling her arms around him. There was no caution to the kiss she gave. Seek the flames, the vestige spoke. Know beauty for an instant. Her breath left her lungs in a rush, and her hat fell to the ground as they fumbled and grabbed at one another." I SEE YOU CALLING BACK PREVIOUS CHAPTERS HERE. She is so HUNGRY for something here, something that could burn- but would she enjoy the pain?

"My indestructible, all-purpose bench," he related. "This is where I test some of my riskier prototypes." He circled the fixture, running his hand along the edge. "See that varnish? It's water, fire, and scratch resistant." His sleeve was rolled up to the elbow, and she ogled his forearm like a pent-up teenaged Puritan. I'm going to climb him like a tree, she thought." I am always a sucker for ogling when the other person has their sleeves rolled up. ALWAYS. The way he's showing off and the way she's like.. turned on by this. Mm. Yes.

"He leaned against the bench. "Let me guess: you're consumed by lust for me on account of my fantastical inventions. Also, you're incredibly impressed." That's not far off, she thought." it's really not.

"Neutron, to say that I'm 'impressed' does not do justice to my partiality. This place is amazing. You're amazing." "Strong praise, coming from you." "It should be. You did more than just fulfill the terms of our agreement. You took the time to teach me things. You challenged me, questioned me. When you saw me hurting, you offered comfort, even though I'd done nothing to deserve it. Do you know how rare that is?" He averted his eyes. "Not as rare as you think." "Not in your world. In mine." "Then it's a good thing you're leaving it behind." SWWWOOOOOONNNN. That was pretty suave. More seriously, it is so obvious how desperately she needed someone to care, for someone to see her.

"He took the paper from her and laid it on the stack. "An unfortunate necessity in my line of work," he said. "But I've found a way to minimize the damage." He picked up a projectile. "These are Piezoelectric Shockrounds, a non-lethal form of ammunition. You can think of them as lightning in a cartridge – they incapacitate a man instead of killing him." "They paralyze?""Induce unconsciousness," he clarified." I did NOT see that coming. Genius.

"He reached toward her holster, then froze, stopping just inches from his misappropriated pistol. "May I?" he murmured." It's such a small detail, and yet it speaks so loudly.

"She watched, spell-bound, as he slowly eased the weapon from its sheath. Reflections danced along the barrel when he brought it up into the light; it was a beautifully-wrought firearm, though perhaps not as striking as hers. Careful not to fix her in its sights, he tipped the barrel toward the ceiling and tugged the latch which kept the cylinder in place. It swiveled open with a click." I am not one for guns, but eff me, this was a divine description. Like, there is no other word other than divine.

"Look," he said. He tipped the gun sideways, and six blue-tinged bullets fell into his waiting palm. He held the rounds between them like an offering. Tex was astonished. "This whole time…you had Shockrounds in your gun?" OH. OH. OH. I AM SCREAMING. OF COURSE HE HAD NON-LETHAL AMMUNITION.

"She shook her head in wonder. "I checked to see if there were bullets in the chamber, but I never took them out, and…the rims look so similar, I never imagined…" He kissed her softly, and the words died on her tongue. Tilting his hand, he let the bullets rain down on the tabletop, and then he set the weapon down and pushed it out of sight. She heard the metal scraping against the surface of the table as he gathered her body against his. Tex slid her fingers into his hair; he smelled of pine and old books, and his stubble added texture to their kisses. Desire melted over her like warm honey." OOOO i loved this, i could feel the desire, hear the bullets crashing to the floor. Tasty.

"She nodded. He popped the snap on her holster, and Tex's breathing quickened – but not from fear. Carefully, he took hold of the green handle. Her head swam as the revolver left its stronghold; for the first time in ten long years, it was in someone else's grasp. Under someone else's authority. The room felt boundless and hazy, like yesterday's dream. It was what she wanted. He held the gun in front of her, and for an instant, visions of violence and supremacy flashed through her mind. Then they were gone, and he gently placed the body of the pistol against his upturned palm. The Emerald Ire glimmered in the spherelight, and in a surreal moment of concurrence, she saw it through his eyes: an instrument of death, brought before him for analysis…and disassembly. He turned the weapon over, examining both sides, then popped open the cylinder and peered inside. Frowning, he removed a single bullet, squinted at it, and held it up above his head for inspection. Satisfied, he slid it back into the chamber and spun the cylinder shut. He returned the revolver to his palm, and she watched, breathless, as he tilted it back and forth to catch the light. A spray of reflections danced over his face and cartwheeled onto the wall – tiny stars, brought to life for a fraction of a second. A tingling sensation traveled up her spine. The gun was singing, as it always did, but the tune bore no resemblance to a dirge." i'm so sorry, this is getting SO long, but MARA. MARA. THIS IS BREATHTAKING. Almost HOLY in a way. Death is in his hands, and it is so beautiful. And it is SO INTIMATE. Like he's touching HER but not quite.

"He traced the curve of the trigger guard, then rubbed his thumb over the rear sight and pulled back the hammer. Heat flared to life in Tex's cheeks…and other places. How can a man be so damn indecent without being indecent at all? she wondered. When he gave the cylinder another spin, her imagination spun with it." AGAIN! INTIMATE WITHOUT BEING INTIMATE. HOT. HOT. HOT.

“I've never been afraid of you, Vortex, not for a single second – not even when you jammed a gun into my gut. But now, I think I should be." ""What will you do with me?" she asked. Her heart was beating rapidly." HELLLOOO????! I could cut the tension with a knife and eat it.

"He reached up with his knuckle and lifted her chin. Tex swallowed nervously as he tilted her head, admiring the different angles of her jaw. "So beautiful," he murmured." oh my heart. She shies away from his tender attention.

"He bent and kissed her neck. Tex inhaled sharply. The touch of his lips sent a jolt racing through her body. Softness, and warmth, followed by the sandpaper scratch of his stubble. She did not speak, so he kept going, working his way across the most sensitive part of her throat. Her wolf-brain growled, he'll tear it out! A primal thrill coursed through her. When he made it to the other side, he loosened a third button, exposing her décolletage. His lips traveled south. Halfway down, he lit upon her bruise; pain spiked, and her breathing hitched. He did not stop. He gripped her thigh with his palm as he continued trailing kisses down her neck. Her mouth parted slightly. I'm in trouble, she thought." yeah, I think you are. The tension between her fear and the THRILL she feels in spite of that, or because of it?

"I know. I trust you." Five words is all this is, it is so small and yet.. and YET

I'm glad she has options to stop pregnancy. That would not be good.

"What, and deprive you of your fantasy? You don't want me in the boudoir – you want to seduce me in your secret lair. That's why you brought me down here in the first place." He chuckled self-consciously. "I fear you may understand me a little too well." I laughed when I read this- she nailed it on the head.

"Grinning, he kissed her, and she smiled against his mouth. Now that all their cards were on the table, it was easy to be tender with him. She kissed him slowly, leisurely. She slid her hands up his chest, seeking out all of the places that had been denied to her before. The fabric of his vest was silk-smooth, and cool on the surface. She slipped her hands inside, where it was warm, then drew him closer, deepening the kiss. She turned her head from side to side, gently exploring every angle." Kissing can be so awkward to write, yet you manage it with such skill!

"Heh," he snickered. "What? What's so funny?" "Your fixation on dessert," he answered. "You taste like maple candy." that's why she's sweet!

"He bumped noses with her, smiling, then kissed her again. She melted into it. He moved down to her neck, then lower, and when he reached her collarbone, he slid his palms onto her lower back and pulled her hips against his. Tex saw stars. He kept doing what he was doing, and Tex realized that tonight was going to be even better than expected. It was easy, so easy, to lose herself when she was with him. No regret, no guilt – no past at all. She was not Tex the Tragedy or Tex the Hired Gun. She was not a story." CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING ACROSS THE STATES?! GENIUS. GENIUS. SO EFFING GOOD.

"Elsewhere, his skin was soft – much softer than her calluses." This line just about did me in. MARA. MARA. AHH. i'm sorry i'm getting to the point where i stop saying coherent things and just start yelling.

"I don't know why. It's not like I've been suave all my life. It just comes naturally with you. You make me feel like I can do anything." "You can," she flirted. "I'll let you." He kissed her again, and this time, there was heat to it. Slowly, the energy between them built. He kissed her lips, then her neck, then her lips again – he dragged his fingers through her hair until her ponytail came loose. He tossed the hairband aside, then took her face in his hands. Over and over he kissed her, like he meant to devour her. One of the bullets rolled off the edge of the table and fell to the ground with a clink." HOT. HOT. HOT. EEEEFFFFF

"Can't get enough of me, can you?" she teased. "No…no I can't." He settled one palm on her bust. "Um, can I –" "Put your hands on me," she commanded." OOOO boy. I like take charge Tex.

"There were so many ways to kill a man, and so very few ways to save one." excuse me. 911. i have expired. cause of death. Mara's writing. But WHAT A WAY TO GO OUT.

"His touch was electric. He courted dissolution until her head felt like it was floating on a string. A strand of hair got caught on her lips, and he brushed it out of the way. "Dear God, I want you," he exhaled. The breathless desperation in his voice made Tex's blood run hot." It's making my blood run hot, too.

"He took hold of her shirt and tried to wrest it free, but she was sitting on the hem. Tex listed to starboard. "What in the –?" He bent to examine the snag. "Did you glue your shirt to your pants?" He yanked harder. "Move!" she laughed, pushing him back. She hopped down off the workbench, but she didn't get very far. He grabbed her by the belt. "Come here," he demanded. Tex stumbled into his embrace. He kissed her feverishly, wantonly groping at her hindquarters. She left the ground for a moment, and they turned a partial circle around each other. Her audacity warred with her inhibition as they narrowly avoided collisions with the furnishings. Finally, restraint became impossible, and she placed her palms on his shoulders and drove him toward the wall. He grinned, then tripped over a random book that he'd left lying around. "Quit throwing your shit all over the floor!" she chastised. "I'll throw anything I want, anywhere I want, any time I want," he defied, tugging at her clothes. This time, he managed to get her shirt loose. He ran his hands up the bare skin of her back, and she shoved him up against the wall." The way they banter while also being totally awkward, all while they are kissing, is utter, utter perfection.

"I'm going to ruin you," she breathed, against his open mouth. He laugh-gasped. She lifted his shirt, exposing his stomach. Tex took her fingers for a walk down main street. She followed the line of woolly hair from his navel to his ceinture, then slipped her hand inside the fabric band. "I wonder how far down this goes," she toyed, leering as he grimaced. "Just take…my damn clothes off…" He couldn't do it himself." I am literally on fire here. The way she's teasing him - the way their chemistry just sizzles off the page? You are melting my screen.

"Tex stripped off his vest. His badge fell to the earth, pinged once, and pinwheeled under the cot. A smug satisfaction settled over her. Let it stay there forever, she thought. I'll be his new vocation." I WILL BE HIS NEW VOCATION???!

"After so many years of fending for herself – of fearing the intentions of every man who came within reach – this kind of trust was a powerful intoxicant." this was a banger too.

ok. I am going to call it quits here for the night and come back and react to the rest tommorow this way you can at least get a small break before i yell at you more. I am getting sleepy and my brain feels like it's melting out my ears because there is just so much delicious stuff here.

And before I go, one last thing, the sex scene was SO HOT. SO GOOD. I can't wait to rant and rave about it tomorrow.

[Mara=^.^=]

I mean…….. I think you are going to encounter an entirely different kind of spike.

 

loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool 

 

GOSH. These two like balls bouncing off each other. (listen, I am writing this AFTER i read the chapter, it's not my fault that my mind is in the gutter.)

 

 

 

These two people are so wounded and so alone in their own ways, and it totally makes sense that they would feel drawn to each other.

 

They both go to such pains to hide their wounds, too. But it just leaks out when they're around each other mind also in the gutter

 

I am always a sucker for ogling when the other person has their sleeves rolled up. ALWAYS.

 

Forearms are fucking hot, okay? I apologize for nothing

 

I am not one for guns, but eff me, this was a divine description. Like, there is no other word other than divine.

 

I don't care for guns generally, but I have a legit thing for old-timey revolvers. UNFF. Sorry if I'm telling on myself

 

AGAIN! INTIMATE WITHOUT BEING INTIMATE. HOT. HOT. HOT.

 

I'm all about that slow build. Her giving him the gun was the very first thing I wrote for this section, way back in like, July
 

Herbcraft is such a useful thing to know. I'm glad she has that knowledge and has the option to offer herself a way out.

Pennyroyal can kill you if you don't know what you're doing, but I feel like homegirl really knows her poisons. I cut a section where she was reminiscing about using Water Hemlock to make a death look like a foraging accident.
 

Kissing can be so awkward to write, yet you manage it with such skill!

 

I wrote this particular paragraph in a hospital waiting room, glancing around furtively to make sure no one could see my phone   
 

CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING ACROSS THE STATES?! GENIUS. GENIUS. SO EFFING GOOD.

I literally muttered "Katie's gonna love this one" when I wrote it.
 

OOOO boy. I like take charge Tex.

 

At the outset, she fully expected to be in charge of this entire encounter. Silly Tex.
 

I WILL BE HIS NEW VOCATION???!

 

huehuehuehue

 

 

 

And before I go, one last thing, the sex scene was SO HOT. SO GOOD. I can't wait to rant and rave about it tomorrow.

 

I'm glad you thought so. I've read some sex scenes over the past couple of years that were just terrible (awkward, with bizarrely clinical descriptions, no chemistry, or rushed pacing), to the point where my initial goal was just "don't write anything like that." 
 

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =
 

[Katia11]

 

 

 

 

they shoot and scoreeee!!!

 

They both go to such pains to hide their wounds, too. But it just leaks out when they're around each other mind also in the gutter

 

And what a delicious mess they make

 

Forearms are fucking hot, okay? I apologize for nothing

 

AGREED

 

I don't care for guns generally, but I have a legit thing for old-timey revolvers. UNFF. Sorry if I'm telling on myself

 

girl, i've told on myself so many times it's not even funny. And I SEE YOUR POINT BECAUSE ...DAMN. 

 

I'm all about that slow build. Her giving him the gun was the very first thing I wrote for this section, way back in like, July

 

And I am OBSESSED with it

 

Pennyroyal can kill you if you don't know what you're doing, but I feel like homegirl really knows her poisons. I cut a section where she was reminiscing about using Water Hemlock to make a death look like a foraging accident.

 

OHOH??? I don't know if you still have it but I would totally be interested in reading that. 

 

I literally muttered "Katie's gonna love this one" when I wrote it.

 

It absolutely tickles me pink that you write things and KNOW I am going to freak. It's almost like you tuck lil' treats in there just for me. I know that's not your intention, but it still makes me smile!

[Katia11]

okay, now onto the rest of this unhinged review. seriously.. 4,743 words later…. what is wrong with me?!

 

"Once she was positioned to his liking, he returned to his primary directive: dismantling the last of her defenses. He was so warm, so persuasive. He kissed her mouth, her jaw, her throat, her collarbone – she was drowning in him. "I'm surprised you let me corner you like this," he confided. "Let me make it worth your while." She murmured her approval, and he pushed his hips against hers, low and slow. She closed her eyes; her cheeks burned. He whispered to her, but despite the surging heat, she didn't make a sound. "Do you like that?" he asked. Tex dared not open up her mouth, lest she debase herself by telling him the truth: that she longed to be completely at his mercy, now that she had tasted it. To lie there, helpless and eager, while he overpowered her – not because she wanted him to hurt her, but because she was certain that he wouldn't. The fantasy became a kind of torment, sweet, and heady, and electrifying. She winced from discomfort and desire." This section was so GOOD. I absolutely had the overwhelming sensation of being surrounded, but not in a bad way. In a way that feels welcoming, seductive.

 

"She went to work unbuttoning his shirt, but her efforts were stymied by his simultaneous attempt to remove hers. She gave his knuckles a little slap to make him wait his turn. After tugging his arms free of his sleeves, she tossed the garb on top of its predecessor. Mr. Neutron held still so that she could admire his physique, but Tex was caught up in her other senses – she settled her palms on his pectorals, relishing the goosebumps on his skin." it's almost they are so desperate they are fighting over seeing each other naked first. the ache is palpable. Also, the way she puts her hands on his chest, the way she studies his physical reaction to her touch- just shoot me into the sky.

 

"He mistook her silence for disappointment. "I know I'm not much to look at," he acknowledged nervously. "Not like Nick or Sheen. But I've gotten more muscular since I left the city –" Tex grabbed him by the scruff and kissed him hungrily. Her enthusiasm left no room for insecurity." YEAH, YOU SHUT HIM UP.

 

"Wildcat," he muttered, and seized her face again. Tex stared into his eyes; she was so dizzy, the corners of the room were beginning to blur. He kissed her, then softly bit her lower lip. A tiny sound escaped her throat. Fire sparked in his gaze, and Tex saw her future – what he was going to do to her in a matter of mere minutes. Take me apart, she thought. Hurry." I was almost dizzy too, that's how convincing the desire she feels is. And how she sees the promise of what he's going to do to her in his eyes? Her NEED for it? I am hearing fire sirens in my head. That's how hot this is.

 

"Holy shit," he said, when her top finally came off. He gawked at her. The garment slipped between his fingers and fell to the ground." Yeah, that's right, you'd better appreciate the sight of her.

 

"It should have been cute, but Tex was way past that. Flushed and wide-eyed, she pressed herself against him. "Be rough with me," she urged. He flung her onto the mattress. She tried to sit up, but he climbed on top of her and pinned her down. She laughed." HELLOOOOO??? Excuse me? This exchange feels so urgent and wild with longing, but there's still that note of tenderness that balances it out in a way that makes it even hotter.

 

"Keep it up, you little minx, and I'll put my clothes back on," he threatened. "You wouldn't dare." What an ass. And yeah, I don't believe this threat either.

 

"She could feel his heart beating like a drum. Tex valiantly attempted to linger in the moment – to appreciate the silky slip of skin on skin – but she could not focus, now that she was under him. He propped himself up and slunk backward, kissing his way down her chest and stomach. "I've been thinking about this all evening," he confessed. "Imagining the things I'd do to you if I could get you on your back." SHIT. Suave Neutron is showing again. I loved the way you worded this, too- the way she wants to appreciate the feeling of him, but almost can't because she can't focus? Good stuff.

 

"Tex squirmed, red-faced, and pushed his head lower. " Such a small detail, but it makes her feel so real. He stopped beside the ugly pockmark on her abdomen, just above her hip – her old bullet wound. "You have so many scars." He gently traced the edges of the mark. "God. How did you survive all this?" She draped one forearm across her eyes. "Why are you still talking?" He bent and kissed the slashmark on her ribs: a bar fight. A broken bottle. He caressed the gouge on her sternum: a knife-wielding stranger in her tent. She'd killed him with the blade he'd used to slice her blouse. The puncture wound near her clavicle: a rain-soaked target, brandishing a screwdriver. Tex flinched. "Don't!" she said. "Don't do that." "Oh," he cringed. "Sorry." "Pretend they're not there. Pretend I'm like any other woman." "Okay." wow. this entire section was complete and utter genius. the way he's kissing the reminders of what she's been through and the way she doesn't WANT him to, the way she wants to not be that- the way she wants to be like any other woman? I am speechless.

 

"He moved back up to her mouth and kissed her the way she liked – deeply, searchingly – until the tension began to fade from her muscles. He slid his hands down her arms and took hold of her wrists, then pinned them in place on either side of her head. He kissed her throat, the curve of her shoulder, and her bust, slowly growing rougher as he went. She melted back into a puddle." SAME. Like. Get a mop.

 

"Tex's belt went over the side, and he hastily unbuttoned her pants. The bed creaked as he disrobed her. She was in a rush to do the same to him, but he pushed her back down onto the mattress. He kissed her, hard, then buried his face in her neck. A twinge of pain shot out from her bruise. Her hair was everywhere – hopelessly tangled in the pillowcase, the sheets, and between his fingers. She could not see straight. He kneaded her chest, kissing her desperately, and her thoughts shrank until there was only one word left in her vocabulary. More. More of his hands, more of his mouth, more of him. It was the kind of madness that could get a woman killed." MARA. MARA. I AM EATING THIS UP. MARA. HOW DO YOU DO THIS??? I feel the need, I feel it in my BONES.

 

"He straightened and attempted to remove his trousers, but there simply wasn't enough room for him to maneuver, and awkward blundering ensued. She sat up to watch the show, and he raised his arm to block her view. "Stop rubbernecking," he told her. "I look like an idiot." He yanked his ankle free, and Tex treated him to a round of mock applause. He tossed the rest of his clothes, then half-fell, half-crawled on top of her." i am loving the little ways in which you continue to make this feel like a real interaction. I love how you capture the awkwardness of undressing while still making it feel endearing. The two are perfectly balanced.

 

"He slipped his hand between her legs, and ran his palm up and down the underside of her bare thigh. She grimaced. Relentless, he continued. He warmed her up with his hand. The men are learning, she reflected wryly. Next, they'll be landing on the moon. He turned slow circles with his fingers, and Tex grew taut and bit her lip. She blushed as one leg bunched itself up in the sheets. On some other night, it might have titillated her completely, but at present, it bordered on intolerable. She ached for him. Her impatience grew." I am literally SWEATING right now. The details in every single paragraph of this interaction are just STUNNING.

 

"The kissing resumed, and he gave her a series of quick little nips. She shivered. "How do you want it?" he proffered. "I'll give it to you any way you like." His tone made her toes curl. How did she want it? No one had ever asked her that before. It took a second for her to answer him. "Do anything you want to me," she decided. "Only tell me that you need me while you do it." JESUS. I need a fan. More seriously, the longing to be needed, to have him SAY he needs her? Tasty.

 

"He did not offer comment; instead, he filed it away for future use. He went back to kissing her neck, and she clung to him, dizzy with anticipation, as he shifted his position. He pushed her knees apart, and her heart rate soared. Tex draped her forearm across her face again. He rubbed himself against her, teasing, promising. Regrettably, the darkness she'd invited conjured up old fears. For an instant, she was afraid – afraid that this would all turn out to be a dream, and at daybreak, she would awaken, and find herself alone. She placed her palms on his skin, just to make sure he was real." The first part, the way the desire makes her feel dizzy.. YEAH. Same. And then the way the fear collides with the desire hurt my heart, but it makes sense. She has so many little monsters waiting in the corners.

 

"Now?" he prompted." I love that he checks first.

 

"Tex cried out when he entered her – not from pain, but because it brought catharsis. The aching, burning emptiness finally subsided." WHAT A BANGER OF A LINE.

 

"He stopped cold. "Are you okay?" he asked, alarmed." HE CHECKS AGAIN. MY HEART.

 

"He was gentle at first – almost hesitant – but in the moment, the details were irrelevant. After so many years of loneliness, all she really wanted was to hold him. Let him take whatever time he needs, she thought. She would be satisfied with anything he gave her." I AM COMING FOR YOU. I AM GOING TO SHOW UP AT YOUR DOOR, a little BEDRAGGLED CAT.

 

"Mmm," he appreciated, and kissed her again, before resuming his restrained and cautious tempo. He exhaled rhythmically, and she relished the wordless declaration of his ardor. She could not communicate what she was feeling, but it did not change her craving for him. Please don't stop, she thought." I am overwhelmed by your ability to make this feel so OVERWHELMING. I know that statement is repetitive, but you are just going to have to deal with it. The NOISE he makes? The way she is speechless? Perfect. (I'm also using that word a lot- sorry.)

 

"You're so quiet," he murmured. "You don't have to hold it in." He nibbled on her earlobe. "Make some more of those little noises for me." OOOOOO BOY. This is HOT.

 

"She gave him the performance he'd requested. She gasped softly, faintly, in time with the sinuous motion of his hips. He did not rush; he rocked her slowly, and the room receded into nothingness. When that ceased to be enough for him, he repositioned so that he could look her in the eye. For Tex, it was too intense, too intimate. She clammed up and shied away. "Please look at me," he bade. She closed her eyes. He kissed her neck and throat to coax her, sultry and sweet. "Tex," he whispered, more than once. He stroked her head, and twined his fingers in her hair. "Please." The outlaw summoned up her courage. She turned her mad eyes toward him, and got a pair to match. His gaze burned blue-hot; it was almost unnerving." Everything about this is SO MUCH. The NEED he has for her to look at him, the way he BEGS her to? The way he's waiting, expectant and almost hungry when she finally does? PEAK.

 

"He increased his forcefulness, and Tex braced herself against the headboard in surprise. He continued, resolute, pushing past his sweetness and her reticence. Her mouth fell open, and stayed that way. She grasped his shoulder blade. Overcome, she sank into rose-colored delirium. "Better?" he asked. She could not speak; she could only grip his back and ride the storm. Emboldened, he grabbed her thigh and held it. "You're not gonna kill me now, are you, woman?" he incited, in a tone that made her entire body tingle. She let her tongue off its leash. "No," she pleaded. "I want you. I…" He cut her off. He kissed her roughly and grabbed the headboard with his other hand. Using it for leverage, he dragged his hips against hers. Tex saw stars again. She started gasping, and this time, the sounds were not artificial. She did not even try to get her bearings. She begged him for it. "Please, ah, please…!" He dropped his head and muttered nonsense in her ear. His moniker was on her tongue and in the air, but the two did not seem connected. She floundered in the whitecaps. Despite her sonorous expressions of approval, he could not keep up that level of exertion. Panting, he eased off just a little to recoup. He nuzzled her, then apologetically caressed her thigh where he'd been clasping it. "I need you," he told her. Tex did not believe him, but it didn't matter. His touch freed her from the prison of existence. He kissed her, bit her, purified her. Holy Fire, brought to earth and given form. She chased the spark that would bring obliteration." MARA. MARA. MARA. I WANT TO SHAKE YOU. I WANT TO HUG YOU. I WANT TO SCREAM. This entire section is GENIUS. Every word is … Wow.

 

"Tex gazed up at the ceiling. She ought to say yes; it was the only sensible answer. But sense had long since exited the premises. She wanted to provide him with release. To be filled, and claimed, and elevated. Other men might sully her, but he would make her better than she was. "No," she replied. "Don't. I want you to…" She trailed off, but he got the message. A low, pained moan escaped his throat." And again, you take my breath away. The way she almost idolizes him (which I'm SUREEE is healthy) the way he sort of breaks when she admits she wants this? GOOD LORD, IT WORKS SO GOOD.

 

"He increased his pace, and she slid her palms up his spine and buried her fingers in his hair. The nape of his neck was damp, just like it had been when they were dancing. She'd known then where all of this would lead. She murmured breathy exhortations while he bumped and jostled her. He was fast unraveling, and his rough handling drove her to the brink." Again with the sensations. Such small details that make this entire thing so delicious.

 

 "Tex," he rasped. "I'm sorry…I can't…" "Shh," she breathed. "It's okay. It's okay." I am FEELING THINGS. I am a sucker for the way he wants to hold on for her, and the way she consoles him into letting go. JUST DAMN.

 

"She closed her eyes and waited. A moment later, he gasped, and spasmed, and filled her with a warm, satiating wetness. It was more than enough to push her over the edge. The world expanded into radiance – heat, and weightlessness, and light." This was... STUNNING. Especially that last little bit there.

 

"Thank you," she said. He laughed lightly, and she felt his stomach clench. His breath tickled her. He raised himself up on his forearms. "That good, huh?" he joked. She smiled at him. He gave her a deep, lingering kiss. "You're amazing," he told her." And we're back to the bantering, but there's that sweetness again, too. It works SO WELL.

 

"They did not remain entwined for long. She tried to fix her tangled hair, and he withdrew and sat up. He stared down at her body, both hands on her knees. His sticky handiwork dribbled out of her. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I've made a mess of you." This is probably a weird thing to quote, sorry, but I can't get over how he apologizes for something she literally asked for? It was very sweet.

 

"She sat there in the darkness of the privy, still reeling from what they'd done together. It felt raw, and unreal, and yet, she wanted more of him. She hurried back, and he got up to take his turn. As they crossed paths, he smacked her on the bottom; she yelped and tried to swat him back, but he grinned and disappeared behind the door." I am loving how this encounter has made her hungrier, like getting a taste of something delicious and wanting to eat it again and again.

 

"Now that it was over, a girlish shyness took hold of her. She covered herself with the sheet while he gently ran his fingers up and down her arm. She yearned for reassurance, but he said nothing, and in the silence, her insecurities came calling, even though she knew they were irrational. "Do you still like me?" she asked, in a small voice." Oh, her insecurity here is just. OUCHIES. MY HEART.

 

"He looked at her with surprise, then pity. "Oh, God – Tex, my love, come here." Mr. Neutron pulled her tight against him. He kissed the side of her head. "Of course I still like you. What kind of question is that?" "Some men resent a woman once they've tarnished her." "Well, I'm not one of those men. And if you find one in the wild, catch him, and I'll put him in a jar so we can study him." She sighed. "I know. I know you're not a cad. But this is difficult for me. Caring for a man is such a risk." "This is a risk for me, too," he said, and of course he was right. He had invited a murderer into his bed. Tex thought about their situation. They were dangerous to one another, and they had the potential to damage each other badly. It would take care and patience to ensure that didn't happen." yeah, they really COULD hurt each other if they aren't careful, not because they are weak people, but because they are the opposite.

 

"I'm willing to embrace the risk, if you are," she said. "I know I could fall in love with you, if I let myself." "For me, it's already beginning," he shared." I AM ON THE GROUND.

 

"Her blustery confidence returned, and she rode him the way she'd been wanting to all evening. It was important that he remember who she was – she had power over him, and she would use it." Girl. Girl. I mean, she's not entirely wrong, but not entirely right? I think there is a power in him too- that's why their dynamic is so .. dynamic. LOL

 

"He started snoring, which annoyed her, but he stopped when she wedged herself under his arm. She studied the air vents in the ceiling, pondering the inner workings of his lab, and by extension, his mind. It all seemed so impossible, but it was true: he had chosen her of all women, and if she worked hard and proved her mettle, he would love her." I love the human aspect of Neutron snoring. And then the rest of it, the way she tries to unravel his mind, the way she awes at the fact that he choose her, and then finally the way she resolves to prove herself so he will love her? You came for my throat and took it in your talented hands.

 

"Warm, and safe, and almost-loved. She slipped into balmy oblivion." And we are closing this out with another Katie freak-out. MARA. MARA. MARA. I AM JUST THROW ME IN THE TRASH BECAUSE I AM GARBAGE. I AM WRECKED.'

 

Okay, we have finally come to the end of this literal essay. eff. Why can I not control myself?

 

This fic is a masterpiece, and I almost wish I could pin it to the mainsite so everyone could ogle its brilliance like a well-exposed forearm. I meant what I said the other day: you have honed your craft so much. You are such an ARTIST. You can wreck me in the best way. Each chapter is so beautifully written and crafted. Every single time I think, oh, she can't outdo herself, you manage to do it.

 

This entire chapter was so intense and hot. I feel like I need to go take a walk around the block to cool down. You totally pulled it off! LIKE DAMN.

 

Finally, I hope you know that I am always happy to listen to you complain. It is my HONOR.

[Mara=^.^=]

OHOH??? I don't know if you still have it but I would totally be interested in reading that.

 
I keep a lot of the material I axe, but I deleted this portion entirely for some reason. Tex was reflecting on one of the few times she did pro bono work - she murdered a man who was beating and killing doxies in Nacogdoches. She snuck into his pantry and added Water Hemlock to his stash of root vegetables. It is extremely deadly and looks just like wild parsnips, so he cooked a meal and inadvertently poisoned himself. Neighbors investigating the incident concluded he had picked the Water Hemlock by accident. This was a real thing that used to happen quite frequently during westward settler migrations, most famously on the Oregon trail.
 

This section was so GOOD. I absolutely had the overwhelming sensation of being surrounded, but not in a bad way. In a way that feels welcoming, seductive.

 
Oh yeah, he was all up in her business. Tex is standoffish and extremely wary about being cornered (for good reason - we'll see more of this next chapter), so letting him take control was definitely a huge expression of trust. 
 

Also, the way she puts her hands on his chest, the way she studies his physical reaction to her touch- just shoot me into the sky.

 
She has such a thing for his chest. She lustfully touches it multiple times; I ended up removing one iteration because it was starting to get excessive.
 

Yeah, that's right, you'd better appreciate the sight of her.

 
Homeboy has not seen a lot of boobs in his life. Big moment for him. lol
 

SHIT. Suave Neutron is showing again.

 
It's always the slightly repressed ones who have mad game when it comes to dirty talk.
 

wow. this entire section was complete and utter genius. the way he's kissing the reminders of what she's been through and the way she doesn't WANT him to, the way she wants to not be that- the way she wants to be like any other woman? I am speechless.

 

So, at least 10% of any sex scene is just the author telling on herself, and this is very much the case here. This comes entirely from personal experience. My abdominal and pelvic surgeries have left a ton of scars, front and back - like, my stomach is a horror show, and so is my ass. The *last* thing I want during an intimate moment is to be reminded of those negative experiences, even if it's coming from a place of care and compassion. Don't look at them, don't touch them, don't talk about them. THOSE SCARS DO NOT EXIST. If I could cordon off my entire belly with crime scene tape, I would.

 

I AM EATING THIS UP. MARA. HOW DO YOU DO THIS???

 
I have an extremely active imagination. 
 

She has so many little monsters waiting in the corners.

 

That's such a good way to put it.

 

Everything about this is SO MUCH. The NEED he has for her to look at him, the way he BEGS her to? The way he's waiting, expectant and almost hungry when she finally does? PEAK.

 

It's amazing what you can do with something as simple as eye contact, if you're committed to really exploring the psychology of the characters. His desire to connect, her discomfort with gentleness and intimacy, and their mutual desire to please one another. They have so much natural chemistry, it's ridiculous.

 

The way she almost idolizes him (which I'm SUREEE is healthy)

 

Definitely not healthy.   Originally, there was a moment in this chapter where Mr. Neutron tells Tex not to put him on a pedestal, and it was a banger of a line, but I ended up cutting it because I realized that he's also caught up in the borderline dangerous dynamic they've got brewing. They both have this deep unmet emotional need, and they are looking to one another to fulfill it. They are both so lonely and so eager for love and understanding that they're willing to take huge risks to chase those things. There is no world in which it's a good idea to invite a contract killer to live with you in your house, but luckily for Tex, he strikes me as the type of person who's prone to errors in judgment, despite being both intelligent and empathetic.

The other reason I included this section is that I wanted to explore the concept of sex as a form of purification. The cultural narrative around sex, particularly in this time period, is one of sinfulness and dirtiness: a woman is 'sullied' by sleeping with a man. Tex already sees herself as being lowly and impure (hence her earlier comment, "I'm going to ruin you"), so for her, these intimate acts with a person she respects represent an elevation rather than a degradation. She's literally getting off on the idea that he can improve her somehow. Which is totally warped, but also interesting 

 

yeah, they really COULD hurt each other if they aren't careful, not because they are weak people, but because they are the opposite.

 

I think it's really important that Tex has a moment of sober clarity here, because they are courting disaster in their mutual haste to mend those emotional wounds. It's readily apparent that this relationship could be SO good for both of them, but it could also turn deeply toxic if they aren't mindful of their actions.

Part of the reason the chapter wasn't working before I added in the sex scene was because I was trying to shoehorn in this conversation before they took the leap. It felt inauthentic and artificial. You can't think rationally when you're that goddamn thirsty

 

Girl. Girl. I mean, she's not entirely wrong, but not entirely right? I think there is a power in him too- that's why their dynamic is so .. dynamic. LOL

 

Tex frames it this way because she's attempting to reclaim her sense of autonomy and control after she willingly, albeit briefly, gave it up. She feels like he has a ton of power over her (he did just make her beg), so she wants to prove to herself that she can give as good as she can get. Which of course, she can. She could completely wreck him if she wanted to, lol
 

I almost wish I could pin it to the mainsite so everyone could ogle its brilliance like a well-exposed forearm.

 

ROFL. You're killin' me, smalls

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

 
I keep a lot of the material I axe, but I deleted this portion entirely for some reason. Tex was reflecting on one of the few times she did pro bono work - she murdered a man who was beating and killing doxies in Nacogdoches. She snuck into his pantry and added Water Hemlock to his stash of root vegetables. It is extremely deadly and looks just like wild parsnips, so he cooked a meal and inadvertently poisoned himself. Neighbors investigating the incident concluded he had picked the Water Hemlock by accident. This was a real thing that used to happen quite frequently during westward settler migrations, most famously on the Oregon trail.

 

That is fascinating and WILD. I'm sorta sad you axed it. Note to mara: keep things so katie can read them. jk jk I am totally kidding. 

 

 

Oh yeah, he was all up in her business. Tex is standoffish and extremely wary about being cornered (for good reason - we'll see more of this next chapter), so letting him take control was definitely a huge expression of trust. 

 

It totally was and I am INTO it. 

 

 

She has such a thing for his chest. She lustfully touches it multiple times; I ended up removing one iteration because it was starting to get excessive.

 

I mean, I get it. Touching someone's naked skin for the first time is so ... vulnerable? idk what i'm looking for here. 

 

Homeboy has not seen a lot of boobs in his life. Big moment for him. lol

 

the boobs broke his brain? sounds like someone else.

 

 

 It's always the slightly repressed ones who have mad game when it comes to dirty talk.

 

 

I mean, it is WORKING so mark me down in the "you've convinced me" category. 

 

 

So, at least 10% of any sex scene is just the author telling on herself, and this is very much the case here. This comes entirely from personal experience. My abdominal and pelvic surgeries have left a ton of scars, front and back - like, my stomach is a horror show, and so is my ass. The *last* thing I want during an intimate moment is to be reminded of those negative experiences, even if it's coming from a place of care and compassion. Don't look at them, don't touch them, don't talk about them. THOSE SCARS DO NOT EXIST. If I could cordon off my entire belly with crime scene tape, I would.

 

Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. I'm sorry though for all the trauma you've been through. I am sending you some air hugs. 

 

 

That's such a good way to put it.

 

gold star for me! I actually worded something well! Yay!!

 

 

It's amazing what you can do with something as simple as eye contact, if you're committed to really exploring the psychology of the characters. His desire to connect, her discomfort with gentleness and intimacy, and their mutual desire to please one another. They have so much natural chemistry, it's ridiculous.

 

IT IS. LIke DANG. 

 

 

 
Definitely not healthy.   Originally, there was a moment in this chapter where Mr. Neutron tells Tex not to put him on a pedestal, and it was a banger of a line, but I ended up cutting it because I realized that he's also caught up in the borderline dangerous dynamic they've got brewing. They both have this deep unmet emotional need, and they are looking to one another to fulfill it. They are both so lonely and so eager for love and understanding that they're willing to take huge risks to chase those things. There is no world in which it's a good idea to invite a contract killer to live with you in your house, but luckily for Tex, he strikes me as the type of person who's prone to errors in judgment, despite being both intelligent and empathetic.

 

yeahhh.... these two. I hope they aren't headed for a wildfire that destroys them both and then everything else. Because it could go either way.  

 

 

 

The other reason I included this section is that I wanted to explore the concept of sex as a form of purification. The cultural narrative around sex, particularly in this time period, is one of sinfulness and dirtiness: a woman is 'sullied' by sleeping with a man. Tex already sees herself as being lowly and impure (hence her earlier comment, "I'm going to ruin you"), so for her, these intimate acts with a person she respects represent an elevation rather than a degradation. She's literally getting off on the idea that he can improve her somehow. Which is totally warped, but also interesting 

 

VERY interesting. Also, written beautifully and executed with such skill! 

 

 

 

Tex frames it this way because she's attempting to reclaim her sense of autonomy and control after she willingly, albeit briefly, gave it up. She feels like he has a ton of power over her (he did just make her beg), so she wants to prove to herself that she can give as good as she can get. Which of course, she can. She could completely wreck him if she wanted to, lol

 

No, that totally came across. I just was being a little sassy. She can totally wreck him. Leave that poor boy in a heap on the floor. 

 

 

ROFL. You're killin' me, smalls

 

look, i am legit awed by this fic. it is by far my favorite of yours, and it is a MASTERPIECE. EVERYONE SHOULD LOOK AT IT AND DROOL.

[Mara=^.^=]

yeahhh.... these two. I hope they aren't headed for a wildfire that destroys them both and then everything else. Because it could go either way.

 

I suspect this is one of those situations where having an outside threat is really going to help the relationship develop in a positive direction. Can't fight each other when you're busy fighting off bad guys who want to murder you and everyone you love

 

Speaking of which, hold onto your butts! Next chapter is gonna be brutal

 

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

I AM LOOKING. 

[Katia11]

Still hot on a second read through:) masterful work here my friend.

[Mara=^.^=]

Colored

 

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

LOOOK AT THEM. LOOK AT HOW HOT THEY ARE. (the first time I typed this I typed HOW HOW- that's how how they are. they've melted my mind.)