Allison can hear it in the way Tris breathes, in the way that lean and sculpted body gives under her touch, shifts to let her mouth brush over skin. For all the violence she still fears, for all the scars she still carries, Tris's strength is not all inside. She's been training far longer than Allison, she's the real thing where Allison is little more than a toy soldier.

She could break Allison without breaking a sweat. She tenses at a simple hug, to feel her body warm and pliant beneath her touch feels like a declaration as heavy and as large as the one locked inside her own chest.

Both emboldened and unsure, she pressed one more gentle kiss into Tris's skin, drifting away from her tattoo and brushing her lips against the center of her chest, just below her collarbone.

"Should I stop?" she murmured softly, nuzzling just a little at that soft hollow of skin above the place her lips had been.