At the end of the day, he was back in her room. The dim lighting and the basement's smell had become comforting. They sat and took their shoes off together. "About earlier today," started Laurel. Olga gave him a warning glance, but he kept going: "I worry and care. But I'm aware that your decisions are yours to make, even if I hope you change your mind. That's… all I meant to say." She smiled and took her coat off, throwing it at a chair. There was a long silence, but Laurel didn't break it because it seemed like she was winding up to say something. "You keep repeating that and it strikes me," she started at last, "Because I haven't been completely honest. And I guess that interferes with your autonomy." 

His extremities went cold. Her room suddenly felt much colder and humid than it really was. Still, he just nodded along. "You asked me about the toll of black magic and I did totally brush you off," she said, "Because I felt like that wasn't your business." Olga wasn't looking at him. "And now I guess I was… hesitant because of your family history," she said, looking down, "I do use my own vitality. And it doesn't bother me, but I didn't tell you because I thought you'd be concerned." Yeah, considering the way she was skirting the topic, he was concerned. "Look, I'm quite positive that I'm infertile. I haven't had a period ever since I was a student."

The odd pause made him reach out and grab her hand. She was right. It had made him worry. The magic she did was completely unknown to him and the fact it could kill a living thing just for fuel was incomprehensible. "Hey. Look, Olga…" he took a deep breath, "You shouldn't feel pressured to tell me that. You're right. It's not my business. But I do worry about your health." Though he wanted her to meet his eyes so he could give her a comforting look, she still looked away. "Ah. Your, um… Right to decision making enters in the part where…" she paused and exhaled slowly, "You were obviously scared of an illegitimate child. I'm just, you know, keeping you fully informed." 

The cogs in his brain took way longer to turn than they should have; ultimately, they did, and it made his whole body heat up. "Are you telling me about a chronic health issue and assuring me we can have sex in the same beat?" he exclaimed, mouth agape. She tapped her feet on the floor, still avoiding his gaze. "It's my chronic health issue, so it's not insensitive for me to say it. And I've mostly come to terms with it," she said, "I never wanted kids. I've just told you I want to work until I die. It's… fine." She stopped her tapping and lifted her face, side-eyeing Laurel. "Fuck, I know, this does sound weird. But I thought you should know." She took another deep breath and finally turned to him, gripping the mattress under them tightly. "And I'm letting you know it would be fine if we… And I want to." Olga bit her bottom lip and hesitantly reached out to touch his hand. "I want you to fuck me," she whispered.

He held her hand and slid closer to touch their shoulders, which was enough to make her smile. "You're right. It's your body," he said, "And yeah, I'm scared." Her pupils were scarily wide, as if she wanted to peer into his thoughts. Knowing what she wanted him to reply to, he raised his other hand to caress her cheek. It was warm. "I feel fucked up for thinking this right now, but hearing something like that, I must admit I want to fuck you, too." There was a pause; he could feel her slowly gravitate towards him. 

"But it's still scary," he said, one hand pressing her waist, "Not just for me, but you too. I don't want what happened to my mom to happen to you." She didn't seem dissuaded at all, a melting smile on her face as she touched her nose to his. "That won't happen," she whispered. "You can't know that," he replied. "That's where you trust me to make my own decisions, remember? And you can make yours." His heart skipped. "Are you just that horny?" he asked. She pulled him down and kissed him, making him immediately taste her tongue. Combining that with the imagery of the possibilities she'd conjured up was really doing numbers on his mind. She broke away only long enough to whisper: "Yes. I want to ride you so, so hard." 

She climbed on his lap and ran her hands under his shirt; he'd grown accustomed to the feeling of her fingertips on his back, but would still never grow sick of it. He pulled her in, making her hips fit perfectly with his. "If you say that, it's hard to keep my judgement," he muttered, losing his breath while kissing her neck. "Then don't," she said, grabbing him by the hair and forcing him against her neck even harder. It seemed like she'd untied his hair at some point. After a while, he pulled back and inhaled deeply. "Are you sure?" he asked, a hand on her chest to push and pin her to the bed so she'd answer instead of kissing him more. "I feel like getting the most out of you," she said, playing with his bangs. "You don't know how much I want to please you right now," he whispered, getting closer to her ear. She trembled under his hands. "Is that all you want?" she asked. Laurel touched his chest to hers, wishing their skin was bare. "No."

After they'd washed up and gotten back in bed comfortably, Laurel wondered: "How are you gonna get that dirty rag washed?" Olga snuggled up to him, her head and hand resting on his chest; one of her legs was atop his and he could feel that it was shaky. "Eh, whatever," she said. "Did you…? For a first time, at least," he asked, a bit awkward. Her fingers dug on his ribs. "Yeah. I want to do it again," she said, her chest rubbing against him. "Now?" he asked; she confirmed it. "I can't," he laughed. Despite making a sad sound, she settled down and went back to relaxing against him.

"I was wondering," he started, "I mean, I do care. You were just… clouding my judgement before." She snickered, "Go on." He hugged her closer. "How come black magic has made you infertile?" he asked after mulling it over for a bit. Olga laughed softly. "That's not it. You see, some of these tattoos are curses I've tied directly to my bloodstream," she lifted one of her heavily tattooed arms to showcase it, "Think of them as parasites, if you will. I feed them before I feed my own body." Hesitant, Laurel caressed her side, keeping her close to him. Of course, what she'd said had been alarming, but she'd lash out if he didn't measure his response. At least that was the impression he had. "Why would you do that willingly?" he asked, lowering his voice. She still seemed content enough. "Most curse inflicters don't. Cursing is classified as black magic solely because of the effects on the recipient. Wrongly classified," she shrugged, "But this is nice for augmentation. And for someone like me, passive feeding is better than active feeding."

He touched his chin to the top of her head. Whenever she said something so personal so casually, he'd think her worldview really was warped. "Do you… need that? For the library. Isn't just regular cursing enough?" he asked. She went silent for a moment. Then, she took a choppy breath. "You'll think I'm vain. It would be enough," she said, her grip on him almost hurting, "I completely changed the plans of operation when I took over. Now the building itself and everything in it is tied to me." Her voice became a whisper. "I devised a whole new system. I'm not just a councilor. I'm a resident specialist," she said, "They need me."

"That's not vain," said Laurel, "Though that makes me even more worried about your relationship with your job. It's like it consumes your life." She shifted, her nose touching his neck as she hid her face. "It is my life," she said. He put some distance between them to look her in the eyes; she definitely looked like an animal that had been pulled out of its burrow. "That doesn't reassure me in the slightest," he said. She frowned. "I already said you shouldn't worry about me," she groaned. "I care about you. There should be more to your life than work," he begged, cupping her face, "And I'm hopelessly in love with you." She laughed a bit and it looked and sounded bitter; "Soon you'll be gone and I'll never hear from you again. You won't be able to care." 

He hugged her tighter and let her hide her face again. "I know," he whispered, "And I'm sorry. Though I know you'd only have eyes for your job even if I stayed." She chuckled again. "Ah, that's true. But it was the whole premise of our relationship," she paused, kissing his neck tenderly, "I still love the time we get together."