First time for everything

[itsallovernow]

Yes, I'm stalling. I needed a boost before my next chapter. And I wanted to think about rubberneck's fairy sheen. It's self indulgent - the second person generally is. Completely beta free. You know I'm just entertaining myself.



First Time for Everything

The fear is worse than the blow, when it finally comes. You’ve spent a cycle being better than everyone – stronger, faster, smarter. Because you’re small, because they come down harder on you for reasons you don’t understand. You all learn the movements and motions, the rituals and retaliations, but you understand why they work, how to drive yourself forward into your opponent, and you’ve never been hit in the face. But he’s better than you, older and confident, and the punch hits your temple, cracks the cheekbone, snaps your head around and takes you to the ground. You bleed on the mat, feel your flesh swell and your ears ring. You want to vomit from the shock and the pain, but you don’t. You force yourself back up, look at him. Knowing he’ll hit you again, you step into your stance and ignore the blood.

Unsurprisingly, a cycle later, his tongue snakes along your teeth as his hands fumble at the clasp of your pants. You help him, wiggling your lithe young body so that the uniform pants, the regulation underwear get shoved to your knees and then he is heavy and thick inside you and it burns, stings and you feel tears catch in your eyes as he slams into you. Indelicate, a little clumsy, but you thrust up your hips, hoping for some equity as he sinks his teeth into your neck, moaning your name before he collapses on top of you. You think that you’ll seek someone else for next time.

Your ears pop as the Prowler screams out of the hanger bay. You’ll get points deducted for that, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve got a perfect record, and that microt of pleasure was worth it. You’ve been waiting cycles for that chance, getting hints of the pull and pressure in the sims, and the reality is glorious. This is better than sparring, better than sex, than promotion, then stripping off field gear at the end of a campaign. This is fast, and smooth and perfect, and when you dial it down, slide into a spiral, show off just a little because you are the best in your class and it’s idiotic to pretend otherwise, all you can think is yes. This is right.

Cycles later, you are a different person, a traitor, an exile, and you lie underneath the sheen of the stars in a hybridized living ship as an alien slides into you and you gasp and think it again. This is right. He moves slowly, filling you, pressing until it hurts just a little, and then pushes even further until you feel the pull and stretch in every muscle of your body. When he says your name, groans it out of his throat, you contract around him, shudder against the weight of his body, the delicious stinging pressure of his cock inside you. He retreats and advances, pulling from you whimpers and cries until you bite down on the join of his neck and shoulder and he comes with a sound like dying. He saves he loves you and it’s not the first time he’s said the words, but here and now, you put it together and pull him to you, strangely touched.

You don’t look at his death as unique. It’s not. Neither is the sight of his body dissolving into space debris as it’s ignited by the sun. Even Rygel’s compassion is not a first, and when you see John's face again, the fall and break of his features, the cracks in his blue eyes, it’s not a first either.

The prowler pulls away after you say goodbye. Say his name, his whole name, and prepare to leave him. You find the squad. Terrorists, anti-terrorists, what does it matter. They’re giving you back flight, giving you back your connection to death, being on the right side of it. They don’t talk to you, and you don’t care. You’re not looking for friends. The leader grips your arm, bruises your skin and takes you to a planet to change you. A young girl, pale hair and wide eyes, strokes a hand down your thigh and says you could be beautiful. Her pink tongue darts out to lick her lips and when you lash out, hold her throat in your hand, she moans, grateful. You let her scrub your skin, pluck your brows, paint your face. You let her slide you out of your clothes, let her slide her clever pink tongue and long pale fingers inside you, and you even let yourself shake in the aftermath of orgasm. But you push her away when she’s finished, and take the new garments she’s offered and you find that she’s right. You look in the mirror, and you are beautiful. And you’re not Aeryn, you’re something else. The mark strokes your back, buys you a drink, and falls to the floor when you snap his neck. Other men watch, stand too close, breath hot in your ear. It doesn’t matter.

Assassination, the leader says. Plague, destruction, chemical warfare. Something warms in your belly and you try to push it away but it won’t let go. You train and the oily feel of breaking bones slowly drains from your palms. You put on the uniform, burn the dresses, and you’re wearing her face on your body. It looks odd, but the tingle is spreading through your limbs, and when you hold the pulse cannon in your arms, it’s better than a lover. You feel a thrust in your sex that is clearly desire, and you hug the weapon to you.

You’re still wearing someone else’s face when the heat delirium radiates outwards, making you clumsy, foolish. You whimper, feel his name on your lips, and when you see his eyes, blue, so blue, looking down at you, a smile is all you have left for him. There’s a monster asking for sanctuary, and you give it gladly. You’ll die soon anyway, what’s a lie now? And when you wake up, suffocating in a shiny black suit, realize where you are and what you’ve done, all you can do is accept it. When have you ever looked back? Moya calls and you walk into the bay, someone else's face, and your body and Scorpius’ suit, and when his eyes lie, and say you’re home, you think, why not?

Comments

[thassalia.livejournal.com]

I'm glad the POV worked for you. This needs a lot of clean up but I wanted to play with some of these ideas - I hadn't really thought of the makeup being part of the character before Feldman's post either - assumed it was the makeup department - but I wanted to play with that a littl.