Chapter One: Feelings

"You think my first instinct is to protect you. Because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff. But you're wrong."

He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. "My first instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press," he says, his fingers squeezing at the word "break." My body tenses at the edge in his voice, so I am coiled as tight as a spring, and I forget to breathe.

His dark eyes lifting to mine, he adds, "But I resist it."

"Why. . ." I swallow hard. "Why is that your first instinct?"

"Fear doesn't shut you down, Tris. It wake you up. I've seen it. It's fascinating." He releases me but doesn't pull away, his hand grazing my jaw, my neck. "Sometimes I just. . . want to see it again. Want to see you awake."

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As much as Tris may like assume he is, Tobias knows he isn't an awe-inspiring saint. He knows he is awful. He knows he does not treat her well. He knows he is sadistic, at times. He wants to put pressure on her, to watch her bend and break. To see exactly how she reacts. Its an unerring instinct, an edge of curiosity. He wants to kill her, just to watch her rise from the dead.

He pushes her firmly into his mattress, his body cloaking hers, and he knows she is scared, but he just does not care.

He is overwhelmed. He wants to forget all the memories and nightmares that plague him, and just release himself in the rush of physical exertion. And he wants to do it with her. Now.

It is ironic, he thinks, that she should be what he wants to take out his exertion on. She, who came bearing the clothes of the Abnegation faction, with sweet, gentle, delicate eyes which belie no fears but at the same time, radiate with the determination and conviction to give protection to others.

It is ironic, he thinks, as he slants his mouth over hers and hears -no, feels- her whimpers against his skin and lips. But he keeps her restrained on the bed. He wants this, now. She can't overpower him; they both know this, and he keeps her pushed down below him on the bed.

His hand slides up and down her bare arm on one side and brushes her torso on the other. She altered her old Abnegation uniform into a baggy sleeveless tunic and that was what she was wearing today. Maybe she thought it would please him. But she doesn't know him.

Today was the day, nine years from now, his mother left him alone to join the factionless. No, this girl, as wonderful as she is, does not know him. He wished she did; perhaps then she wouldn't hate him as much for what he was doing to her tonight. Perhaps. But he didn't tell her, so there was no way for her to know.

He releases and finally open his eyes, looking down to her face. Her body is apprehensive and stiff with tension, but her eyes are dauntless, courageous, coated with a pallor of challenge. No, Tris does not flinch in the face of adversity. It allows him to not feel so bad about what he wants tonight, but a sliver of doubt still skims the back of his mind. His eyes searches hers for a moment more before deciding to quickly ignore the sliver and go back down to assaulting her.

He wants to push her to her limits, to see how far she will go. He constantly restrains himself from doing so, but tonight he has no patience for restraint. He is giving up; he is giving in.

His rough kisses and purposeful caresses hide no intentions. He intends for them to have sex. Tonight. It is clear in the way in which he gropes her thighs and grabs them forcefully against him. He will be in charge. And he will take what he wants from her. She is scared, he knows.

She did not ask for this. Did not ask to face her fear tonight. He can read it in the stiff posture of her body and the hesitant tension that prevents her from reciprocating any of his actions. But thats okay. He doesn't care at all. Tonight, he is angry, conflicted with emotion and desire. He is inundated with the desire to change things, the desire to have control over his feelings and emotions. And he has been left empty, heartless. So he does not care at all about hurting her; it is a combination of a primal desire that has always been fighting with his well of reason, and his already heightened and sensitive emotions that has led him to decisively pursue her tonight.

Although her eyes reflect ferocity, he knows that she is not okay with this. He can feel within the tenseness of her limbs underneath his, that she does not like this, is not wholly comfortable with his hand his rubbing her stiff outer-thighs with purpose.

But he wants to see her awake.

"Tris," he finally whispers in a moment of weakness. They are still both fully clothed. "You can back out."

He feels her take a deep breath and she steady her trembling chin with determination.

"No," her voice coats in stubbornness, her mouth downturned. Tris is upset, he knows, she wants to cry and say "Stop." But she won't. Her stubborn nature would prevail. He knows this. And somehow, it hurts him.

In any other situation, Tobias would have thrown an angry tantrum; chastised her for lacking self-preservation skills, those fundamental objects that stand in the way of keeping oneself alive. But for now, because it serves his purposes, he will take it. For once, it suits him.

He quickly removes his shirt and brings his hands down to rest on the area of skin between her sleeveless altered grey Abnegation tunic and her baggy training pants.

His hands roughly slide up her slim hips, which have barely filled in, and lift her tunic up her head.

He doesn't pause to revel in the sight of the white bandanna bra around her chest; he'd seen it once before while patrolling the corridor of the Stage 1 training changing rooms.

He isn't being gentle, he knows; he isn't being romantic.

He kneels on the bed in front of her and lifts her hips, laying her legs scissored ontop of his thighs. He thrusts harshly against her before leaning down to slam another hard kiss against her face. He wanted to see her break; but she isn't moving or responding at all.

Something inside him, like a click, shifts. And suddenly, with lack of reciprocation, his long, hard kiss changes into one that is gentle and slow.

His hands lessen the tight hold he has on her thighs around his waist as his lips began caressing hers. He brings his hands up from her hips to either side of her face and reverently cradles her cheeks.

And suddenly -suddenly, she begins to finally kiss him back. The tenseness in her body, while still present, slackens a bit. And before he knows it, they are slowly grinding against one another.

He is humping her slowly and sensually. Which is not what he meant to do.

The intensity lost to patience and breadth after an extended period of time, he groans at the feeling of his groin straining against his crotch. Despite the tentative movements towards him, she is still shy and not ready. But she knows he wants this.

No. For some reason, she can tell that he needs this. And she is complying. She is giving him what he wants, albeit in her own Tris way. She is giving it to him, her way. Just like how she can alter her simulations.

Is this what it means to be divergant, even in real life? He is in love with this enigma, this girl.

And although he wanted to break her and grind her into pieces, he can't help but wonder at her. Caught up in his revelry, the girl below him takes him by surprise as she sits up from where she was initially thrown. She lifts her arms up around her head and quickly pulls the bandanna bra off her torso, placing it by her side on the bed.

He blinks twice and looks down at her form.

She is pale, lovely like a deer caught in the headlights. Her skin is smooth and white. His fingers beg to touch the small, pert peaks on the tips of her chest. His groin throbs in sweet protest of his mind's hesitation as he stares down at her bared torso in wonder, speechless and lost. For a moment, although he meant to scare her, he is scared of her.

Scared of touching something so small and fragile with his rough and calloused hands, tinged with the residue of metal from bullets. "Tris," he chokes, and lifts his gaze up from her chest to her face.

She tries to smile at him at first, but simply ends up twitching her lips nervously and looking sheepishly off to the side of the room. "I know... Its not much."

"No," he gasps, his eyes widening. He lowers his head and kisses the corner of her lips and suddenly, his ferocity returns as his lips begin trailing down her jaw to her neck. "No. No, Tris, you're beautiful."

She gasps as she feels his mouth move to her chest and pause slightly before finally moving to her two small breasts.

With his hand, he holds the side of her right breast reverently as he attentively sucks and pulls on it with his mouth.

Her eyes close and her lips silently begin to throb up and down in pleasure. Her breathing and heartbeat accelerate, to her embarrassment, as she knows she can feel all of it.

His other hand runs up her torso and finds its place above heart, above her left breast.

The close proximity of his hand to her other breast, close but not touching, makes something deep ache yearningly in the core of one of her most intimate places.

Masturbation was considering sinful in Abnegation; sexual self-pleasure was amongst the highest sins. She knew that, even as a four-year-old. When she was nine, she decided to just forgo the rituals of her faction. She decided that as long as she could hide it, as long as they didn't know, she would be fine.

Tris masturbated on a regular basis since she was nine; she was selfish. She knew she was never meant for her faction once she realized that she could not let go of the goodness of the feeling. The pleasure she sought was forbidden. But she liked it.

She knew, and perhaps her mother did as well, that she was never very good at hiding her divergence from Abnegation.

Tobias pushes himself back up higher on her body, his mouth now leaving gentle kisses on her neck as his hands began the slow trail past the now-moistened and blood-rushed nipples, to her sternum.

Once his hands reach her bellybutton, he slows. Distracting her with attention to her neck, he slowly rubs gentle circles on her pelvis.

He can feel her heartbeat accelerate in the intimate caresses. Although just touching her stomach, his touch is sensual. Extremely sensual and intimate, and not what how meant for this night to go.

Leave it up to Tris to change completely how he wanted to go about having sex with her. He meant to see if her sheer will could break his desire and replace it with an even more fiercesome one of her one.

It turns out it her will did break his; just not in the way he thought it would.

Instead of pushing him back and taking control of the situation, she pushed him down and took control of the situation by transforming his actions to suit her.

He kisses her shoulder hard, as he trails his fingers a lower. He feels her trembling, even though his finger hasn't yet even grazed the waistband of her pants.

He lifts her face and mouth up from her neck and looks down at her. His fingers still gently resting on her sternum, he waits for her to open her eyes and look at him. When she finally does, he let his fingers gently slip into her pants without losing direct eye contact.

He notices every single inner flinch written on her face, her breath coming in and out in even quicker gasps and smaller heaves. She is panicking, and he grows scared. He doesn't lose eye contact with her, but neither does he halt the path of his fingers reaching into her pants. Her breaths come out in short gasps, and her eyes widen in fear. She is panicking, and for a moment, he realizes he is too. But he is trained to ignore his fears.

So he doesn't stop the plight of his fingers. They keep reaching down.

Be brave, Tris, he silently commands. His eyebrows furrow seriously as stares her down and runs his fingers gently through her pubic hair. She looks as if she is about ready to cry. Be brave.

A/N: So thoughts so far?