Bad Things
Title: Bad Things
Genre: Sci-Fi Dystopian
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Sex M/F, unpleasant themes, bad language
Summary: From Peter J Carrol's Liber Null and Psychonaut:
The death of superstition: We may see magicians working behind barbed wire and in underground cells also.
The quiet click of cables slotting into place mingled with a small soft sigh of relief as Edward shifted back into the network. It was the first thing he’d done when they’d arrived at their new hiding place, made straight for the access point in the corner and pulled a bundle of cables out of his pocket. Swiping his unnaturally blonde hair away from the scarred ports aligned with his spine. Last time she looked Marsh had counted four, now she could see another pair beneath them, six perfect punctured holes running in two columns down his back, the skin around them tight scar tissue.
She stared at them for a moment, those gaping products of some illegal and overpriced backstreet surgery, before Edward turned his head a little to connect. She watched as he let his fingertips brush across them lightly, a heroin addict raising a vein, before sliding two cables deep into the back of his neck.
His head fell back, let out that familiar sound of relief, and waited, just a minute for his mind to adjust to the new senses before sliding in the next two cables. It took another moment for the connection to finalise, but as his consciousness spread into the network the result was immediately obvious. Marsh watched as Edwards shoulders sank a little, his body seemed to slide off balance and he let himself slump lightly against the wall, his eyes moving at lighting speed under closed lids, brain processing through the four channels of awareness at once. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at Marsh a little dreamily, smiling as the shreds of his remaining awareness filtered through into the real world.
As real as this world could be for someone like Edward.
Behind her Marsh heard Sebastian enter the room, letting out a small sound of contempt as he watched Edward lower himself to the ground carefully, the cables running up from the base of his neck to the open access point. He said nothing though, walking past them both to let his foot nudge lightly against the one mattress pressed up in the corner of the room. She could practically hear him mentally calculating how hard it would be to argue her out of trying to fight him for comfortable sleeping privileges and let out a small smile despite herself,
“Help yourself, I don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight.”
Sebastian grunted, moving to sit on the mattress before rolling onto his side, his back to both of them,
“Try anyway. Tiredness is not your friend.”
Marsh rolled her eyes lightly, noticing that he hadn’t insisted on sharing the mattress with her, there was a reason why she wasn’t going to miss Sebastian after all this was over. She moved to sit on the floor next to Edward, ignoring the coldness of the roughly poured cement floor beneath them. For a moment they were all silent. Just enjoying the brief period of sanctuary, of escaping the radar even if it would only be for a few days. It was only ever a few days now that Marsh was known to them.
She was the one who broke the silence, speaking softly,
“If you knew they were coming, and there was no way out, what would you do? How would you want to spend your last moments?”
“There’s always a way out.”
Sebastian’s voice echoed tiredly from across the room, Marsh watched him draw the heavy grey trench coat a little tighter around his shoulders, even half asleep and with his back to them his irritation at the hypothetical situation was obvious. Of course, he’d be on the other side of the world before the ranks even made it through the door, he’d melt into the cement, or bleed into a pool of piss on the mattress, turn into a pigeon and fly out the broken window before they could so much as grab hold of his tail feathers. Smug bastard.
She turned to glance at Edward again, his head tilted back just a little, mouth hanging open ever so slightly as his eyes flickered through what looked like the early stages of REM sleep. She nudged him lightly, letting her knee bump against his and causing him to open his eyes slowly and glance at her,
“Hm?”
“You hear the question?”
“Oh, yeah, if I knew they were coming for me and there was no chance of getting away, I’d plug in with everything I have and access porn on every channel.”
He smiled a little wryly at her,
“By the way, should this situation ever come up, what are your feelings about bouncing up and down on my cock while I fry my brains?”
She gave a half laugh, more out of courtesy than anything else, and shifted back a little more firmly against the wall. She liked Edward, he was private, un-intrusive, considerably more polite than Sebastian, but when he did speak, she was never sure just how much of what he said was a joke. For another minute they were all silent before Sebastian spoke again,
“How about you then? What would you do?”
The words were short, clipped. She could just imagine him quietly seething at himself for showing an interest in her. She forced her voice to stay light, hoping her nonchalance could irk him more than he already was,
“Isn’t it obvious? I’d drop my pants and set down on Edwards cock of course.”
“I’m so going to hold you to that.”
Edward mumbled as his head slumped against her shoulder, both eyes closed once again and shifting though the channels quietly.
The tiny, digital clock on his primary channel was blinking at 5:23 in the morning, and suddenly something was different. Edward frowned a little and made a mental log of his connections, no stray wires, no virus, no overheating, but that was how it felt, like there was some strange, distant heat source pressing onto him. The sudden, terrifying thought that this was some kind of new tracer flashed through his mind, that they’d found him somehow, caught his technological fingerprints and were tailing him down each connection, down the cables and into his spine. How long could it possibly take them? They were everywhere now, some team in the street would get word of what port he was using, the location would be compromised, and then it was all black bags and who knew what? The long excused actions of the justified and the ancient.
Edwards hand moved automatically, the motion of one who’d had to rip out his cables without full withdrawal a million times before, but something stopped him. A hot pressure closing around his wrist and seeming to trickle up his arm. He tried to shout, to Sebastian, to Marsh, to warn them, but again that same heat, that same pressure on his lips, so that all that came out was a muffled sound of half-hearted objection. This was all wrong. Edwards mind was screaming explanations to him, he should be able to struggle, he should be able to scream even if he let almost all his consciousness out into the channels. He should not be losing muscle control.
Another thought came to his mind, in a slow, sickening moment. The extra ports, the surgery, the cables, all plugged into his nervous system, maybe something was finally going wrong with the work done on him, or maybe their tracer was more than just a tracer. Before every surgery he’d weighed up the possibility of paralysis against the need for more access, and every time access had won out, the desire to go deeper, to do more, to feed his obsession, his addiction, it had always been stronger. In that moment he would have let someone fill every port with resin for just the chance to get out one scream, one warning.
He felt his lips move ever so slightly, nudged open by the pressure, then there was motion, and more heat, and the sudden realisation that this was definitely not paralysis.
Edward drew himself out of the channels fast, fast as electricity can run down a wire, as a circuit can break. The sudden drop in consciousness left his head spinning and his body in a moment of inexplicable vertigo as he felt himself stutter into the rough cement floor and chilled air of reality. Suddenly the distant, uncomfortable heat of Marsh’s lips on his, of more than just Marshes lips on his, was immediate and scalding and pressing right through his skin and into his blood and the only thing that kept him from crying out was that his mouth was bound by those two soft lips, pressing his own into silence.
He could feel the one arm that he’d moved to unplug his cables pinned against the wall above him, one warm hand pressed against his wrist, and her pale skin running down along the length of his, both of their arms flush against each other, sharing body heat, it was practical. Marsh had always been so very practical.
She moved suddenly, wide hips lifting and drawing a sharp gasp of breath from Edward before pushing back down. Hard and wet and tight around him as she filled herself once more, coaxing him to move with her as she began to build her pace. It was a strange experience, trying to focus on reality with the network still open, moments of that world filtering through into this one, or, more accurately, his own lines of reasoning drifting off and getting caught up in the swell of information that he knew was just right there. His subconscious quietly opening search pages and karma sutra torrents and something about the location of the g-spot and an ad for penis enlargement all flickering around the periphery of his consciousness as his head fell back and Marsh’s lips found a small spot on his neck just below his ear to plant a gentle kiss as he tried to hold in the moan that was threatening to break from his lips.
He felt her smile against his skin, before the hot rush of breath as she whispered something to him, and one of those straying lines of reasoning managed to pick out the words “Quiet”, “Wake” and “Sebastian” before going off to play a diligent and defiant game of free association in the network while every inch of his body shuddered towards an orgasm that Edward almost felt he was being cheated out of by the constant buzz of distractions as his mind took “Quiet” to “Silent” to “Silent as the grave” which it combined with “Wake” and defined as:
1. A vigil, a watch.
2. A vigil over the body of one who’s deceased prior to burial, can be celebrated prior to religious rites.
3. To keep watch or guard, especially over a body.
“Body” and “Sebastian” merged into a slightly irritating reminder of the other man asleep in the corner and the fact that he really should be trying to keep an eye on the surveillance cameras outside and right now Edward could feel himself on the very brink of climax and he did not want to spend it thinking about Sebastian but already the connectors going into his nervous system were taking the thought about security and flooding through into nearby cameras and localized comm. channels and suddenly he could hear the voices of a team of men just outside the building talking on an internal communications channel and he knew why Marsh was doing this.
One last request, if you knew they were coming and there was no escape?
If I could do one thing for you to apologize for what I’ve done, what would it be?
I’ve betrayed you both, how about a pity fuck?
Marsh had always been so very practical.
Genre: Sci-Fi Dystopian
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Sex M/F, unpleasant themes, bad language
Summary: From Peter J Carrol's Liber Null and Psychonaut:
The death of superstition: We may see magicians working behind barbed wire and in underground cells also.
The quiet click of cables slotting into place mingled with a small soft sigh of relief as Edward shifted back into the network. It was the first thing he’d done when they’d arrived at their new hiding place, made straight for the access point in the corner and pulled a bundle of cables out of his pocket. Swiping his unnaturally blonde hair away from the scarred ports aligned with his spine. Last time she looked Marsh had counted four, now she could see another pair beneath them, six perfect punctured holes running in two columns down his back, the skin around them tight scar tissue.
She stared at them for a moment, those gaping products of some illegal and overpriced backstreet surgery, before Edward turned his head a little to connect. She watched as he let his fingertips brush across them lightly, a heroin addict raising a vein, before sliding two cables deep into the back of his neck.
His head fell back, let out that familiar sound of relief, and waited, just a minute for his mind to adjust to the new senses before sliding in the next two cables. It took another moment for the connection to finalise, but as his consciousness spread into the network the result was immediately obvious. Marsh watched as Edwards shoulders sank a little, his body seemed to slide off balance and he let himself slump lightly against the wall, his eyes moving at lighting speed under closed lids, brain processing through the four channels of awareness at once. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at Marsh a little dreamily, smiling as the shreds of his remaining awareness filtered through into the real world.
As real as this world could be for someone like Edward.
Behind her Marsh heard Sebastian enter the room, letting out a small sound of contempt as he watched Edward lower himself to the ground carefully, the cables running up from the base of his neck to the open access point. He said nothing though, walking past them both to let his foot nudge lightly against the one mattress pressed up in the corner of the room. She could practically hear him mentally calculating how hard it would be to argue her out of trying to fight him for comfortable sleeping privileges and let out a small smile despite herself,
“Help yourself, I don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight.”
Sebastian grunted, moving to sit on the mattress before rolling onto his side, his back to both of them,
“Try anyway. Tiredness is not your friend.”
Marsh rolled her eyes lightly, noticing that he hadn’t insisted on sharing the mattress with her, there was a reason why she wasn’t going to miss Sebastian after all this was over. She moved to sit on the floor next to Edward, ignoring the coldness of the roughly poured cement floor beneath them. For a moment they were all silent. Just enjoying the brief period of sanctuary, of escaping the radar even if it would only be for a few days. It was only ever a few days now that Marsh was known to them.
She was the one who broke the silence, speaking softly,
“If you knew they were coming, and there was no way out, what would you do? How would you want to spend your last moments?”
“There’s always a way out.”
Sebastian’s voice echoed tiredly from across the room, Marsh watched him draw the heavy grey trench coat a little tighter around his shoulders, even half asleep and with his back to them his irritation at the hypothetical situation was obvious. Of course, he’d be on the other side of the world before the ranks even made it through the door, he’d melt into the cement, or bleed into a pool of piss on the mattress, turn into a pigeon and fly out the broken window before they could so much as grab hold of his tail feathers. Smug bastard.
She turned to glance at Edward again, his head tilted back just a little, mouth hanging open ever so slightly as his eyes flickered through what looked like the early stages of REM sleep. She nudged him lightly, letting her knee bump against his and causing him to open his eyes slowly and glance at her,
“Hm?”
“You hear the question?”
“Oh, yeah, if I knew they were coming for me and there was no chance of getting away, I’d plug in with everything I have and access porn on every channel.”
He smiled a little wryly at her,
“By the way, should this situation ever come up, what are your feelings about bouncing up and down on my cock while I fry my brains?”
She gave a half laugh, more out of courtesy than anything else, and shifted back a little more firmly against the wall. She liked Edward, he was private, un-intrusive, considerably more polite than Sebastian, but when he did speak, she was never sure just how much of what he said was a joke. For another minute they were all silent before Sebastian spoke again,
“How about you then? What would you do?”
The words were short, clipped. She could just imagine him quietly seething at himself for showing an interest in her. She forced her voice to stay light, hoping her nonchalance could irk him more than he already was,
“Isn’t it obvious? I’d drop my pants and set down on Edwards cock of course.”
“I’m so going to hold you to that.”
Edward mumbled as his head slumped against her shoulder, both eyes closed once again and shifting though the channels quietly.
The tiny, digital clock on his primary channel was blinking at 5:23 in the morning, and suddenly something was different. Edward frowned a little and made a mental log of his connections, no stray wires, no virus, no overheating, but that was how it felt, like there was some strange, distant heat source pressing onto him. The sudden, terrifying thought that this was some kind of new tracer flashed through his mind, that they’d found him somehow, caught his technological fingerprints and were tailing him down each connection, down the cables and into his spine. How long could it possibly take them? They were everywhere now, some team in the street would get word of what port he was using, the location would be compromised, and then it was all black bags and who knew what? The long excused actions of the justified and the ancient.
Edwards hand moved automatically, the motion of one who’d had to rip out his cables without full withdrawal a million times before, but something stopped him. A hot pressure closing around his wrist and seeming to trickle up his arm. He tried to shout, to Sebastian, to Marsh, to warn them, but again that same heat, that same pressure on his lips, so that all that came out was a muffled sound of half-hearted objection. This was all wrong. Edwards mind was screaming explanations to him, he should be able to struggle, he should be able to scream even if he let almost all his consciousness out into the channels. He should not be losing muscle control.
Another thought came to his mind, in a slow, sickening moment. The extra ports, the surgery, the cables, all plugged into his nervous system, maybe something was finally going wrong with the work done on him, or maybe their tracer was more than just a tracer. Before every surgery he’d weighed up the possibility of paralysis against the need for more access, and every time access had won out, the desire to go deeper, to do more, to feed his obsession, his addiction, it had always been stronger. In that moment he would have let someone fill every port with resin for just the chance to get out one scream, one warning.
He felt his lips move ever so slightly, nudged open by the pressure, then there was motion, and more heat, and the sudden realisation that this was definitely not paralysis.
Edward drew himself out of the channels fast, fast as electricity can run down a wire, as a circuit can break. The sudden drop in consciousness left his head spinning and his body in a moment of inexplicable vertigo as he felt himself stutter into the rough cement floor and chilled air of reality. Suddenly the distant, uncomfortable heat of Marsh’s lips on his, of more than just Marshes lips on his, was immediate and scalding and pressing right through his skin and into his blood and the only thing that kept him from crying out was that his mouth was bound by those two soft lips, pressing his own into silence.
He could feel the one arm that he’d moved to unplug his cables pinned against the wall above him, one warm hand pressed against his wrist, and her pale skin running down along the length of his, both of their arms flush against each other, sharing body heat, it was practical. Marsh had always been so very practical.
She moved suddenly, wide hips lifting and drawing a sharp gasp of breath from Edward before pushing back down. Hard and wet and tight around him as she filled herself once more, coaxing him to move with her as she began to build her pace. It was a strange experience, trying to focus on reality with the network still open, moments of that world filtering through into this one, or, more accurately, his own lines of reasoning drifting off and getting caught up in the swell of information that he knew was just right there. His subconscious quietly opening search pages and karma sutra torrents and something about the location of the g-spot and an ad for penis enlargement all flickering around the periphery of his consciousness as his head fell back and Marsh’s lips found a small spot on his neck just below his ear to plant a gentle kiss as he tried to hold in the moan that was threatening to break from his lips.
He felt her smile against his skin, before the hot rush of breath as she whispered something to him, and one of those straying lines of reasoning managed to pick out the words “Quiet”, “Wake” and “Sebastian” before going off to play a diligent and defiant game of free association in the network while every inch of his body shuddered towards an orgasm that Edward almost felt he was being cheated out of by the constant buzz of distractions as his mind took “Quiet” to “Silent” to “Silent as the grave” which it combined with “Wake” and defined as:
1. A vigil, a watch.
2. A vigil over the body of one who’s deceased prior to burial, can be celebrated prior to religious rites.
3. To keep watch or guard, especially over a body.
“Body” and “Sebastian” merged into a slightly irritating reminder of the other man asleep in the corner and the fact that he really should be trying to keep an eye on the surveillance cameras outside and right now Edward could feel himself on the very brink of climax and he did not want to spend it thinking about Sebastian but already the connectors going into his nervous system were taking the thought about security and flooding through into nearby cameras and localized comm. channels and suddenly he could hear the voices of a team of men just outside the building talking on an internal communications channel and he knew why Marsh was doing this.
One last request, if you knew they were coming and there was no escape?
If I could do one thing for you to apologize for what I’ve done, what would it be?
I’ve betrayed you both, how about a pity fuck?
Marsh had always been so very practical.