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Wish Fulfillment	By : IndigoHaze Category: +A through F > Bioshock Views: 18501 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bioshock Infinite nor do I own its characters. I do not profit from this work.

Chapter List
- 1-Wish Fulfillment
- 2-Bondage and begging
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- 2
Spoiler Warning - If you haven't played the game, best come back later.

"The mind of the subject will desperately struggle to create memories where none exist..." ―R. Lutece, Barriers to Trans-Dimensional Travel, 1889

"I've always considered it a form of wish fulfillment..." - E. DeWitt, Spoken Words, 1912

                It was a slow trek back from oblivion. Her body felt heavy and her eyelids required coaxing to lift. Never had she opened this many tears and it seemed that there was a price. She still hadn’t worked out just how high it went. Anything, everything was better than her tower. The cage in the clouds. As she drew shallow breaths (an ever-taxing effect of her corset), she grew increasingly aware of the heat and presence next to her. Summoning strength, she turned to see Booker lying in her bed. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm and she decided that sleep was something he had earned.
                How did they come across the same bed? She furrowed her brow as she considered. Had he carried her and laid her upon it after she collapsed? By the feel of her body, it was possible. Yet, why hadn’t he the decency to find somewhere else to sleep? He’d not showed any interest up ‘til now. There were pieces of the equation beyond her grasp and it bit at her pride until she finally rescinded her earlier judgment. She stood beside him as she took hold of his shoulder, shaking with gentle urgency.
                “Mr. DeWitt.” She spoke. As she repeated the name, the irritation in her voice grew more pronounced until he finally stirred, a dreamer’s smile brightening his features. The look was unnatural and yet…
                “I told you not to call me that,” He rasped.
                “How did we get here, Mr. DeWitt?” She ignored him.
                “Well, I invited you up and-“ he turned his palms up and shrugged, sleep still clinging to his body. She flushed. What was going on?
                “I never-!”
                “Oh you said that last night,” He smirked. “At first.” She felt herself redden further. Had she read Lutece’s work, she might have arrived at her conclusion a bit faster. As it stood, she could only gape as she recalled the way she had to bring him back to his name and situation each time they made a big tear. The blood running down his nose. That couldn’t be a good sign, could it? She shuddered. “Come back to bed,” He said, startling her.
                Would it be so bad? She surprised herself. Who would know? If he only remembers what you tell him. Her decency screamed in the negative, but there was something stirring within her that she was completely unprepared for. You lock a person in a tower long enough with only her books and a mechanical bird and they’ll be completely unprepared for the world around them. She tried to fight as much as she could, but by the time she snapped from her thoughts she was walking towards the opposite side of the bed and lying back down beside the Pinkerton.
                “Getting shy on me?” He asked. She didn’t look at him, but it sounded like he was smiling. Grinning, really. “Then we’ll go slow.” He promised. She felt a flutter in her spine spread gooseflesh across her body as his callous fingers touched her soft cheek. Were his hands dirty? Of course they were. The man wasn’t made for work that left hands clean and soft. She reasoned he might be made for this sort, however.
                He turned her cheek and she didn’t resist. She felt his eyes on her as she stared down at his bare chest, revealed by the fallen blankets. There was only a darkening of the room and then his lips were pressed against hers. Chapped, rough, and yet the kiss was tender. She felt her body warm and her fingers slipped behind his neck, holding him as he laid slow pecks upon her lips, which progressed to passionate in the time it took for a tree to start a forest fire, spreading heat the whole way through.
                He separated his tongue from hers, sweet, small, cold and he pulled it from her mouth. Her deep blue eyes stared back into his and he knew what they meant. He had seen that look more than once before. His fingers drew across her side, drawing a shiver from her as he traced the pattern on her corset. Suddenly it was suffocating.
                “That’s more like it.” He smirked. She could get used to that smirk, she noted with a hint of alarm. He broke the stare and his eyes travelled down her body obscenely. In that instant she didn’t just feel like a little girl. She wasn’t the Lamb of Columbia. No, in the eyes of Booker she was a woman. She followed his gaze down to see just how exposed she was. This was no long sleeved shirt and there was no coat to cover her. He flashed her a smirk.
                Growing more into her skin, she rose from the bed. He moved beside her as she turned her back to him, offering the ties he could have sworn he had untied. The thought confused him, but he didn’t let it trouble him as he untied it with practiced ease, leaving her almost no time to gnaw on her lower lip. As she felt it loosen, she wondered if she could do it. Naked in front of another person? The thought thrilled and terrified her. She had rarely considered whether she was attractive or not. With no one to see her and no books that strayed even a little from Comstock’s ideas of what she should know, she was now faced with an unfortunate set of doubts. As if he could sense this, she felt Booker’s lips upon her neck, fingers on her waist. She shivered hard, he hips rotating the slightest bit. She couldn’t leave it here, not if she wanted to. Could anyone?
                She rose slowly from the bed, unable to look towards the man on the bed as she began to pull the garment from her body. Though she made no attempt to entice him with her motions, he felt himself salivate as she wiggled free of her clothing, left only in a pair of lacey drawers. Her back was still facing him, but the paleness of her skin and its promise of soft warmth forced him to rise. She heard the creak of the bed and her mind raced as she swallowed, arms crossed across her chest as she felt his bare skin against hers, pulling her against him.
                His fingers ran across her flesh, hungrily touching each exposed inch of the twenty year old woman. She knew basic anatomy, yet it was not enough to prepare her for feeling him press against the rear of her drawers. Savage desire kindled in her stomach, warming her. Anything, everything he wanted from her now he would have.
                He seemed to intuit this as he pulled her arm away from her chest, one hand reaching up to hold the weight of her supple breast, thumb brushing across her nipple to force a moan from her lips, followed by a sweet whimper. His other hand slipped down her stomach between her legs. As they travelled through her black curls, she felt her heart flutter, swooning into his grasp as he discovered her wetness.
                The pleasure invaded her without warning. Her knees buckled and suddenly he held the whole of her miniscule weight. His strength enticed her further as his hands worked her body obscenely, playing her like a fine violin. One might argue that her noises were far better, but for certain they were beyond her control as her pleasure began to pool within her groin. She felt her abdomen tighten as her cry tore through the room.
                “Mr. DeWitt!”
                Her orgasm was fierce and she had no way to prepare for it. Her body bucked in Booker’s arms, convulsing as if she was seizing. Her hips rose and fell violently as she rode the overwhelming pleasure all the way until it began to dissipate across her spine and down her thighs, offering her relief and satisfaction at long last.
                As she began to sink back into reality she realized dimly that she was lying in bed. She had no idea when she had made the transfer, but Booker lied beside her, fingers tracing up her thighs and stomach, drawing designs mindlessly across her pale flesh. She flushed as she realized how bare she was before him now that her passion had reached a trough.
                “You’re gorgeous when you come.” He said, voice husky with lust. She felt a smile on her face and she couldn’t bear to look at him. “It’s like you’re a different person…” She expected reality to set in and then to face the horror of having manipulated him with her powers. Instead, he said: “Maybe it’s okay for you to call me Mr. DeWitt.” When she looked at him in confusion, he continued: “So long as you do exactly as I say.” A powerful shudder ran up her spine, shaking her visibly. Perhaps she could afford a little more time in this tear.
A/N: More coming in the future.
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Wish Fulfillment