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The first two weeks in the past are the hardest for Abby. Readjustment comes quickly, her body remembering the old ways of fight or flight and constant fright much faster than her head does. Those two weeks are hardest, though, because she knows with a dread born of experience that the anomaly isn't opening again... and Matt doesn't seem to. He follows her directions readily enough; they build a shelter, look for food and manage to survive despite everything that the Eocene has to throw at them. It's clear, though, that he considers their condition short term. It's like banging her head against a wall, waiting for her brains to splatter against the force of Matt's conviction.
It's everything after those two weeks, conversely, that are the hardest for Matt. It's been two months now, and Matt's wound so tightly she's afraid he'll snap his spine when he breaks. When it's his turn to take watch, he paces in front of the cave they've taken as their shelter, his eyes fixed on the horizon. He's worn a path in the dirt at the entrance. Even sleeping he rolls about so badly she's made a wall of rocks between him and the fire in hopes of keeping him out of the flames. The hollows of his eyes have deepened from exhaustion and tension. His motions have become flighty and twitchy, more spasms than the grace with which he'd always carried himself before.
Abby's not certain what to do about him. The more settled she becomes (and she hates sometimes that she is settled, that she can adjust so quickly to the intolerable) the more on edge Matt is. It wasn't like this with Connor. He'd denied the permanence of their entrapment, of course, but they had fallen into a routine and it had worked for them. With Matt... nothing about their partnership is easy or simple. They slide against each other like jagged glass, slicing and tearing as they pass. He snaps at her sometimes. He is losing weight as quickly as the confident gleam in his eye, and Abby is so tired of this she could scream.
*****
It's been a long day, but a good one by the standards here. Abby had set a trap by the river yesterday, and they'd managed to find and kill the oreodont it caught before the crocodiles got there. Matt had skinned and dressed it with ruthless efficiency while she stood guard, but their only visitor was a small creodont, easily frightened away by her waving arms and yelling.
It's too much meat for one sitting, even as hungry as they are, but the sun will dry the leftovers and they'll have plenty for the future. They spent most of the day cutting and tying together sticks to create drying racks, but it's still mid afternoon and the sun is hot on her head. The leg they roasted over their fire tastes charred and the meat is gamey, but it fills her belly and soothes some of her worries. They don't want for food here, not really, surrounded by tropical fronds rather than the barren pine forests of the Cretaceous. Food that will in no way upset their modern digestive tracts, however, is more difficult to find. The plants are mostly precursors of ones that Matt knows, but it's the meat that is the safest, even if it is the hardest to get.
Across the fire, Matt's gnawing on a bone like it's personally offended him. His mouth and fingers glisten with fat and she struggles to identify whether she wants to lick it off because she is still hungry or for the same reason she finds herself watching his arse when he's bending over to collect roots. He looks feral, and she feels the same: wild beneath the layers of filth and sweat that cakes them. Her mind flashes to Connor, but it's been two months and Abby knows, she knows, that it will be longer, possibly forever. Probably forever. There is still guilt, but she's already made up her mind.
"We'll need to wash off the smell," she comments. Matt's eyes flick up to look at her. "We should go to the creek." Rivers were too dangerous. The crocodiles here weren't as large as some of the ones at home, but they were more aggressive than any of the other predators in the area. They were adapted for a life partially out of the water, as well, hunting along the banks as efficiently as their modern relatives lurked in the shallows. The creeks and streams were the only water source safe enough to frequent.
Matt nods (and when did it become him following her directions and not the other way around?) and they tidy up their fire and store their food before leaving. It isn't far, and a quick scout reveals a few birds and a lizard but nothing of significant danger. Conscious of Matt's eyes on her, she peels off her shirt and trousers and hangs them on a nearby tree. The air is cool but it's not why her skin prickles. She steps into the stream and shivers as her feet dig into the mud. When she turns, Matt is watching her. Abby holds his gaze and reaches out for his hand, pulling him forward. He goes stiffly; his mouth opens but no words come out, even as she slides her hands under his shirt and starts pulling it off him, letting her fingers skim along his ribs and chest.
"Are you," he starts but does not finish, lifting his arms and letting her do as she wants. His eyes are dark, but when she reaches for his trousers he grabs her wrists.
She waits. When she was a child she'd always been the type to prod a sore tooth with her tongue, just to see if it still hurt or if she could pull it out with her fingers yet. This feels similar, and when Matt's mouth works soundlessly she pulls her fingers out of his grasp and gets to work on his belt buckle.
"Abby," he says suddenly, urgently, and she pauses. "This is a bad idea."
She raises an eyebrow and strokes her hand over the bulge in his jeans. It's been there since she started undressing, and his eyes flutter briefly closed as she squeezes him through the fabric. He's warm there, feels bulky beneath her grasp, and she can feel herself getting wet as she touches him. "I think it's a good idea."
He shudders and grabs for her shoulders, but does not stop the movement of her hand. "We don't have anything."
"I've got the implant. That's safe enough."
"What, what about Connor?"
She takes one of his hands and places it on her breast, her nipple tightening beneath the first tentative stroke of his callused thumb. When she speaks, her voice comes out unexpectedly breathless. "He'd understand." He would, too - this was similar to how their relationship had started, even if the details were vastly different.
The moment that Matt's walls collapse and leave him naked of anything but want, she surges forward and presses their mouths together. It's all the encouragement he needs, and she finds herself suddenly airborne as he spins her around and presses her against a tree. Her legs lock themselves around his waist, the jeans scratching against her skin. Matt licks into her mouth and bites her lip, all traces of politeness vanishing. There will be scratches on her back from the bark of the tree, but it is more important to focus on the way his chest feels against hers and the thick bulk of him pinning her. It's electrifying. By the time he undoes his trousers and presses inside her, she's already slick and ready for him.
He grunts as he enters her, and drops his head against her shoulder as he thrusts. It's good, and it gets better when he squeezes a hand in between them, rubbing his thumb against her clit. Neither of them make much sound, too well trained by their time here, but she can't help the tiny gasps that are escaping her. When she comes, she bites down hard on her tongue to keep in the moan. Matt groans quietly against her shoulder as she shudders around him. His thrusts pick up speed as his hands dig hard into the flesh of her thighs. She bites down gently at the junction of his neck and shoulders, feeling the muscle jerk tight beneath her teeth as Matt shudders and comes inside her.
They hold their positions for a few seconds, Abby brushing soft kisses over the reddening bite mark while Matt breathes hotly against her ear. She slides down the tree as he steps back, but she grabs him by the elbow before he can get too far. There is come slipping down the inside of her thighs, and they still need to wash the grease and blood off their bodies before they walk back to the cave. His eyes are shuttered again by the time she pulls off his jeans and shoes and prods him backwards into the water. She ignores it, lifts up a handful of water and lets it trail down his chest. Nearby, a bird screams loudly into the evening air as the world comes back into focus.
"Why?" he asks, and she knows he's not talking about the bathing.
She thinks it's simple, that I wanted to is all it comes down to, but what comes out instead is: "I needed to. I need you." It's true, too, perhaps more true than what she'd meant to say. She can't do this without him.
He watches her as she continues to scoop water, using her hands to wipe away the worst of the dirt and sweat that clings to him. It's easy to let him watch as she tries to show him what she means. She rinses away the come from his softening cock, scrubs sand into his hands to loosen the resistant grease and filth, and hopes that he understands what she's saying. Fingers brushing against her cheek pulls her gaze up, and Matt tucks her hair behind her ear and kisses her. It's as soft as the sex was rough, and the relief that uncoils in her stomach is unexpectedly strong.
****
Later, she tucks herself against him and listens as he tells her about the world he came from, about why he came back. She'd known a bit before, but he fills in the details as they rest in the cave, their fire the only light in the dark, humid night. It is clearly painful for him to say it, but with every whispered word she understands more and more why he acts like a caged animal with invisible bars. He's been raised for duty, for action - saving the world takes training and dedication. To have it wasted here... no wonder it's been eating away at him.
She twines her fingers with his and lets him talk. She's not sure if it will be enough, but it's all she has to offer.