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Night was falling as they pulled into the motel parking lot. Saga switched off the engine and took a breath, settling into her chair to relax for just a moment.
“Think I’ll pass out if I drive any more,” she muttered.
“Yeah,” Casey mumbled. “Ok. Let’s get some rest, then.”
“I’ll pay for it,” Saga told him, opening her door.
“Thanks.”
Casey followed her out of the cold and into the motel, passing into something that looked like the 70’s were just yesterday. A woman was behind the front desk, busily reading a magazine. When the door swung open, she jumped, tossing the magazine to one side.
Saga stepped over. “Two rooms, please.”
The woman made a face. “Uh, so, just to let you know, we’ve had a few pipes burst in some of these rooms. We’ve only got a couple left and they’re linked, and only one of them’s got a working shower.”
Saga huffed. “Sure, sure,” she just shrugged, “that’s fine.”
“Oh, thank god,” the hostess sighed. “Right,” she handed over the keys, “number 13 is the one with the working shower.”
“Thanks,” Casey rumbled, and started away towards where the room numbers were pointing.
Saga couldn’t blame him for being fucking weird, but he was. Quieter and more abrupt than usual, especially since they left Bright Falls, but was that a surprise? He’d gotten possessed by the personification of pure darkness.
Still, that was her partner, and she missed the easy camaraderie that they had before all this.
“I’ll take 13,” Casey told her as they reached the doors.
Saga frowned. “The one with the working shower, I see how it is.”
“Unlucky number, Anderson,” he drawled. “Figured I’d save you more trouble.”
Her mouth opened to say that’s ridiculous, but Casey was already unlocking the door and stepping inside, shutting it behind him.
Exhaling, Saga unlocked her own room and got in. It was nice and warm, at least, and spotless even if it wasn’t the newest. She placed down her bag and poked around a little. Free toiletries were set down in the bathroom, and a fluffy white bathrobe was hung behind the bathroom door. The shower was taped up, and a DO NOT USE sign hung from the showerhead.
She kicked off her shoes and stretched, groaning as bones clicked and muscles ached. Her skin felt sticky and sweaty, her sweater sticking to her.
The door between their rooms rattled with Casey’s knocking.
“Gonna grab us some dinner,” he called. “You want anything?”
“Just get me whatever,” Saga called back, “I don’t mind.”
“Sure.”
The door to his room opened and slammed shut. Saga tugged off her sweater and grabbed the bathrobe, tossing it down onto the bed. She sighed.
This whole trip had been fucked. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. There was a whole world of supernatural bullshit outside of theirs, and it had invaded her partner’s brain and puppeted him around in an attempt to kill both her and Alan Wake. Her daughter had died, then come back to life, and now her marriage was possibly in shambles.
Saga rubbed her eyes. She needed a drink.
She didn’t even realise how much time had passed before Casey came back. He knocked on the door, and when she opened it, he was stood behind it with his coat and jacket off, his tie gone, shirt slightly loose. She blinked at the sight.
“Not exactly gourmet,” he offered her a plate with a jacket potato covered in cheese with tuna on one side and some sad-looking salad on the other, “but it’s a meal.”
Saga took the plate. “Thanks, Casey.”
“Welcome.”
He disappeared into his own room, left her alone to eat her dinner. It was filling, for sure. She sat back at the desk in the corner when she was done, exhaling.
I need a shower.
“Casey?” she rapped on the adjoining door. “Casey, can I borrow your shower?”
“Sure,” came the grunted reply.
Saga grabbed her bathrobe and pushed her way into his room. Casey was sat laid out on his bed, looking as relaxed as one could be after a paranatural entity had invaded your brain. It was bizarre to see him look so… exposed. Like without his uniform, he was vulnerable.
She quickly moved past him and into the bathroom, locking the door. The shower was nice and warm even if the bathroom wasn’t luxury. She relaxed under the stream, eyes fluttering shut, and held herself even as the water ran over scrapes and bruises that still stung.
She didn’t have any clean clothes, so Saga wrapped herself in the towel and bathrobe before leaving. Casey was on his phone when she walked out, so she headed for the door.
“Hey, Anderson?”
Saga froze, hand outstretched towards the handle. “Yeah?”
There was a pause. “There was, uh, something that I saw, when Scratch was in my head.”
She glanced over at him. “Yeah?”
His eyes left the phone for a moment to meet hers, then dropped back down to the screen. “After… you and David, you know. After the divorce, I took you out for a drink.”
Her brow furrowed. “Casey, I’m not divorced,” she reminded him.
He swallowed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just… don’t know how much is real any more. That’s all.”
“Well, whatever you saw, whatever Scratch told you…” she trailed off.
Casey winced. “We hooked up.”
Saga froze.
It wasn’t that Alex Casey wasn’t attractive. He was tall, with piercing eyes and a face that was hard to forget. Unique, all hard lines and elegant profiles. It was what had attracted his ex-wife to him and Saga could see the allure.
But sleeping with him?
“Scratch invented that,” Saga finally said. “You shouldn’t take it too seriously. It’ll fade into some weird memory eventually, Casey.”
He was quiet. “That’s not gonna be easy,” he finally muttered.
She just made a face. “Yeah, I know. There’s a lot of shit we need to work past. I’m sorry you’re the one who got possessed.”
That netted her a crooked smile. “I’ll live.”
You almost didn’t, she wanted to protest. All of us, we almost died in that little town in the middle of nowhere and it’s never going to be the same.
“Yeah, you better,” she finally said. “I need my partner.”
“Mmm.”
Casey finally looked back down at his phone and let silence fill the air. Saga waited for him to say another word, but he didn’t.
“Well, good night,” she called, and stepped into her room.
“Night, Anderson,” came the gruff reply.
So of course, she couldn’t sleep.
Those words repeated in her head, a vicious cycle of thought and imagination that built in her head as she lay, naked, in her bed.
We hooked up.
She rubbed her eyes. What had that even been like? How drunk had she been? Was that why she didn’t remember it, even though it never happened? When Scratch was running around systematically tearing her life down around her, maybe he made her so drunk that she forgot. Another blow to her reality, her normalcy.
“You creepy motherfucker,” she whispered to the ceiling.
It didn’t help her sleep. In fact, it just made it worse.
Saga was warm. The room was cosy. The sheets were clean and comfy. By all metrics, it should have been the perfect place to get some rest. And instead she was aching.
Fuck.
She pushed herself into a sitting position, eyes falling on the door opposite her bed. Her limbs itched with the need for action. Her mind swirled with a desire for knowledge. It made no sense. It made perfect sense. Who else to fall on other than Casey? Who else did she trust more than him?
We hooked up.
Christ.
Saga got to her feet. She didn’t even know why she was doing this. She remembered being married. She didn’t remember getting divorce. Her last memory of David was that heart-wrenching call just before this had all been resolved. The hatred in his voice had almost broken her.
If he had treated her like that during this fictional divorce… maybe there was another reason she’d fallen into bed with Casey.
Saga turned the handle of the adjoining door and stepped through the threshold, into the darkness of Alex Casey’s bedroom.
Be asleep, she wished. Be asleep and stay asleep. Don’t wake up. Don’t let me indulge in this stupid little daydream and ruin everything.
“Anderson?”
The light clicked on. Casey sat up in bed, shirtless, rubbing his eyes. They widened at the sight of her, at her nakedness.
“What the hell,” he breathed.
Saga swallowed. Then she strode to the bed before he could get up clambering on top of him.
“I need my partner,” she whispered.
Casey surrendered to her kisses, but he rolled them both over, spread Saga out on her back as his thigh pushed between hers. Bare skin and wiry body hair rubbed against her clit, made her moan as his arms wrapped around her. She rocked into him, feeling his cock throb against her bare skin through his boxers.
He glided his hands down her waist, moved to spread her thighs open. Saga whined when his mouth left hers and sucked on one of her nipples. His scruff was two days’ worth of stubble and it scraped along her naked skin. Her back arched into his touch, shaky hands grabbing for his shoulders and holding on tight. The room filled with the sound of her panting as he switched to the other nipple and swirled his tongue around it.
Saga was soaked as Casey’s hand slid down her thigh and stroked over her clit. The sensation, the rough glide of his thumb, forced a heavy curse from her lips. It felt like it had been forever since someone had put their hands on her. Logically it wasn’t. Logically it had been a week. But the story told her it had been years.
And Casey touched her with a careful nervousness that translated on her body to slow teasing. His fingers slipped inside her, filling her up with their agile length. His tongue played with her nipple until she was shaking.
“Casey,” Saga sobbed. “Casey, fuck…”
His kisses moved down her, over her ribs and brushing her navel. Her stomach flipped, freefalling just as his lips found her clit. And if that stubble felt good over her breasts, the scrape of it over her inner thighs and flushed folds was divine in ways that Saga didn’t want to think about. She clutched at him, gripping his hair as his tongue flicked out and focused on her clit. Each lap came with his fingers thrusting in and out, steady and fast. Saga squirmed, arching and bucking, until his arm slung over her stomach and pinned her down.
“Casey, Casey, fuck fuck fuck!”
His lips fixed around her clit, sucking. Saga shuddered, thighs clenching. Something about this felt so wrong. This was Casey. Her partner. And he was making her shake and whimper on a motel bed in the middle of nowhere, making her toes curl.
If this was Alex Casey just using his fingers and tongue, how the fuck had his ex wife divorced him?!
Her thighs came up around his head, holding him tight to her crotch as Saga felt her orgasm start to build. Casey’s voice rumbled, buzzing against her folds. A shaky cry escaped her, and her body tensed up for a moment that stretched out into eternity. She was hyper-focused on the tension that grew between his mouth and hands, that seemed to wind without snapping.
“Alex, fuck!”
Casey groaned. And Saga came, shaking and shuddering, gasping and sobbing. The world narrowed to that spot between her thighs and it didn’t stop until the licks and thrusts were suddenly too much and she couldn’t take it.
“Ok, ok, ok, too much, that’s too much,” she panted.
He crawled up her body to kiss her, the head of his cock stroking along her folds. Saga whined, especially when those fingers pulled out of her and Casey lifted them to his mouth to suck them clean. She just needed a second, just a moment to recover.
“Anderson,” Casey’s voice rumbled. “Am I gonna wake up and this is fake too?”
“No,” she panted, “no, this- this is real.” He hovered over her, almost waiting, and Saga cupped his face. “Hey, what is it?”
“Just- remembering what happened in the fake memory,” he admitted.
Her brow rose. “Yeah?”
His throat bobbed. “Yeah, uh… you were on top.”
Huh.
Saga sat up, and Casey shifted out of the way. He ended up on his back. Saga found herself rolling onto him, thighs straddling his waist.
“Like this?” she breathed.
His throat bobbed. “Yeah. Like that.”
Saga braced her hands against his chest even as Casey grasped her waist, bringing her down onto his cock in a slow, careful motion. His grip on her tightened hard enough to bruise, and his voice filled the room in a shaky groan. His back arched, body tensing. Those blue eyes rolled up.
“Shit, Saga,” he whispered.
Her breath caught at the sound of her name on his lips. She leaned down and placed hers on his, kissed him long and slow, rocking her hips. Casey thrust up into her, his body tight as a wire beneath hers.
“S’been a while,” he managed.
Me too.
She bit back the words as she chuckled. “Don’t worry, Casey. I’ll treat you nice.”
Saga sat up, spreading her thighs, bearing her weight on her knees. She used his chest as leverage, bouncing on his cock.
The sensation was heaven.
Her whole body felt as sex-starved as it should have been after she had been divorced for so long. It was like even though her mind and memory insisted she was in a loving marriage, in an active sexual relationship, every nerve cried out that it had been so long.
She knew that for Casey, it really had been a while. Knew that him groaning and shuddering underneath her was from the yawning cavern of sexless months between now and his divorce. But her hunger matched his. She couldn’t stop her moans, the shiver that ran down her spine when his cock pressed into her sweet spot.
Saga made eye contact, dark brown gazing into icy blue. “Alex,” she sobbed out.
Her body bowed like it had been shot when his thumb found her clit, hard and fast, circles drawing rapid around the nub. Her voice filled the room, and her nails scraped down his chest. Casey made a wounded sound, shuddering again.
“Shit, Saga…”
“B-breathe, Alex,” she teased.
Casey dragged her down, kissing her with sloppy lips and clacking teeth for a second before he righted himself. His hand gripped her hair, leverage thrusting him up into her hard and fast. Saga moaned at the sudden speed, the way his thumb was still diligent against her clit.
“You breathe,” he grunted, “you got all tight ‘round me just now-!”
And she was getting tighter, bucking frantic and hard against his lip as delicious, heavy pleasure grew in a tense ball between her thighs.
“Saga,” he was panting, rasping, “don’t- don’t stop, fuck, don’t- make it a fuckin’ story-”
She knew what he meant, she didn’t want this to be fake, to be a figment of some crazed power-mad creature’s imagination. She just kissed him again, pulled him to her like she’d open her eyes and he’d be gone when she-
“Alex!”
Saga shuddered around him, clenching tight around his cock. He scrabbled at her, nails scraping down her back, and twitched.
“Saga!”
His hips slapped into hers, cock pulsing inside her. Saga gave up the fight between mind and body. Her body told her it had been too long since she had felt someone inside her, felt a man cum in her like this.
And it was Alex… it was Casey, her partner, her closest friend.
The room slowed. Saga concentrated on pulling back to herself, on recovering her breath. Casey panted beneath her, hands still on her waist.
This wasn't part of the story.
Scratch had no part in what had just happened between them. He hadn't made Saga leave her room and go to Casey for the night. She had done that of her own free will.
Guilt crept in.
“Hey, Anderson.”
Casey’s voice was as gruff as ever, but in its exhaustion there was a softness. She looked up at him, and his pale eyes were hooded and warm in the lamplight.
“Yeah?” Saga breathed.
He paused before he responded.
“You all right?”
She snorted. “Oh, god. Yeah, I'm great. That was great.”
“All right, that's a relief,” he muttered.
The room fell silent.
“So, when we get back-”
“I was thinking about when we get back-”
They spoke as one. Saga snorted again.
“You first,” she said.
Casey was quiet. “What are we gonna do?”
Saga pressed her lips together. “I don't know,” she admitted. “Won't know, not until we're home.”
“But, uh, you and me, we're good, right?” Casey asked.
She gazed at him with a smile. “Of course we are. You're still my partner.”
His throat bobbed. “Yeah, I like that. Partners.”
Saga settled her head on his chest, and let her exhaustion take hold.