Fic: The Farthest Thunder That I Heard Was Nearer Than the Sky [2/2] (Dark Angel, Max/Alec, NC-17)
Title: The Farthest Thunder That I Heard Was Nearer Than the Sky
Author: alyse
Fandom: Dark Angel
Characters/Pairing: Max/Alec
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Seattle isn't a place of extreme weather, just of extreme wetness. But tonight there's a storm on the horizon and it promises to be something.
The Farthest Thunder That I Heard - Part 1
*
The storm was building up to another crescendo as they finally reached the foot of the Needle, lightning flashing across the sky and the slow rumble of thunder following hard on its heels. It put her on edge again, twitching with the need to move, her fingers flexing impatiently as she waited for Alec to pull the boards back behind their bikes. Another abandoned parking lot, filled with rubbish and dark as night. Story of her goddamned life.
The darkness was no obstacle, not to her. Nor to Alec, who paused for a moment, head cocked, listening to the thunder overhead. It didn't remain dark for long, another flash lighting up the garage. As it pulsed between the boards, it threw sharp, striated shadows across the concrete floor. It lit up Alec's face for a moment, too, his eyes shining in the gloom like the cat he at least partly was. For a split second, she could see everything clearly, stark against that white light - the way that his pupils were blown, wide and dark, his lips slightly parted as he stood there, body turned towards the light. He looked gleeful and entranced both at once.
She told herself that the sudden twisting in her gut was impatience, and headed for the stairs out of the underground parking lot, not waiting for him to catch up. He would anyway - he always did, even when she wanted to shake him off.
Tonight she didn't want to, and it was easier not to think about why. Easier just to keep on moving, concentrating on the pounding in her blood and not the pounding of her heart.
There were 832 steps to the top of the Needle; she'd counted them more than once, each one falling steadily beneath her feet as she raced up to what had once - according to OC - been a restaurant. This time she took every one of them with Alec hard on her heels. He was almost soundless, but she could sense him anyway, the back of her neck prickling at his closeness.
Catch me if you can.
He didn't catch her, not this time. He just let her set the pace just like he'd let her set the pace of their race through the streets, let her burn the tension out of herself. She wasn't used to this - to him not pushing her. It unsettled her, and she was beginning to hate being left unsettled by Alec, uncertain of the next step and not wanting to fall.
She picked up her speed until she was almost flying up the structure, until even her enhanced lungs were straining with the effort. Flight, fight or fuck. Those she could deal with.
She hit the top of the stairs just as another flash of lightning tore across the sky. It lit up what had been the restaurant, tables now broken and seating torn, but she didn't stop. Instead, she headed straight for the window, inexorably drawn by the tempest outside.
She'd reached it, fingers already curling around the twisted metal window frame, leaning outside for a better look when Alec finally caught up with her. Grabbed her too, pulling her back against his body again, one strong arm around her waist and his body hard and tense behind her.
She stiffened instinctively.
"Are you trying to become crispy fried Max?" His voice was exasperated and his grip didn't loosen, not even when she twisted experimentally, caught between the fury outside and the fury slowly starting to build within her. "Damn it, Max. What the hell's gotten into you? Not even transgenics are shock proof."
She knew that - Alec had proved it to her with the aid of a neat little taser. One of these days she was going to return the favour - find one and then shove it up his ass.
She was starting to pull away, more firmly this time, welcoming the anger and the familiarity of it - and she was so going to kick his ass when she got free - when another flash of lightning streaked across the sky, thunder roaring after it. The Space Needle seemed to shake in its wake and she froze on the spot, feeling the vibrations running up through her legs and through her hands where they were still wrapped around the window frame.
Alec's grip on her tightened, his fingers digging into the skin of her side even through the fabric of her jacket. His other hand was up against the window frame now, barely a hairsbreadth away from hers. If she moved her fingers slightly, they'd touch.
"Jesus," Alec breathed in her ear. Nothing else, just that soft, startled 'Jesus', from Alec - the same Alec who smirked while he told her that he wasn't destined for hell. How could he be when every church leader they'd seen being interviewed on his boob tube were categorical about it?
Transgenics - being man made - couldn't have souls.
Whatever Alec did have was awed, if that soft sound was any judge. Of course, being Alec all that meant was that 'awed' didn't translate into 'silent'.
"Now, that was impressive."
His arm slid further around her waist as he leaned forward, pushing their bodies even more closely together. His breath brushed hotly against her face and his fingers finally touched hers, curling around them as he leaned forward, peering out and up into the night sky.
His face was so close she could see every eyelash, outlined against the night sky. So close that if she turned her head, closed her eyes, her own eyelashes would have tickled the soft skin by his ear. A little further, and her lips would have brushed his cheek.
She kept her eyes open, her head still. She had no idea if this closeness was intentional, as though anything Alec did wasn't, but it sent another shiver through her, nothing to do with cold and little to do with the storm outside. He didn't notice or did and didn't let on, which was close enough for government work. Close enough for Max at least.
Too close for Max, and she had to fight that urge to turn her head, lean back and press harder against his body, all broad shoulders and fluid lines. He was damp; they both were, but she could ignore the scent of rain on her the way she couldn't ignore it on him. Not when the water was evaporating slowly from his clothes, dried out by the hyped up heat of his body, surrounding her with the smell of damp cotton and leather and rain and overlaid over all that the scent that she recognised as uniquely Alec.
He didn't smell like Ben. Ben had smelled like a child when they'd run - puberty hadn't kicked in, and his scent had been crisp and clear, not musky and complex. And later, he'd been lost and smelled like it, too - his scent sharp and fractured, as confused as his mind. He'd smelled wrong and Alec...
Alec didn't.
She'd been silent too long. Any second now he'd be in her face, wanting to know what was up, what fucked up part of her psyche was bothering her this time. He wouldn't phrase it like that, of course. If she was really unlucky, he'd phrase it in a way that meant she couldn't justify kicking his ass. He...
Damn, he was too close, his fingers a warm presence against hers as he leant out just a little further, looking down this time instead of up. Watching the traffic below, ants made misty by the rain. Or maybe just thinking Alec type thoughts, and most of the time she had no goddamned idea what those would be.
He felt good and he smelled good and she was tired - tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of losing everything. It was almost overwhelming, that temptation to press back, to let him take her weight, just for a moment. Just one, too brief second of leaning on someone, even if that someone was Alec.
But she was Max Guevara, revved up and ass kicking, and she was a hell of a lot better at taking the offensive than at lying down and just taking it. She started to pull away and his grip on her tightened instinctively. Just for a moment and for that one moment she took it, didn't fight it. Didn't fight him.
It pissed her off, being that weak - showing that weakness to Alec. It set her teeth on edge and the hairs up on the back of her neck, and put a snarl on her lips, but he was letting go almost as soon as she registered it, his fingers sliding smoothly over the curve of her belly and up the line of her hip, lingering just long enough to crumble her defences but not long enough to help her build them back up again, fortified by her anger, the anger he'd take.
Something treacherous and not to be trusted inside her wanted those fingers back, steadying and soft, and that - finally - pissed her off, pushing her over the edge from fragile to furious. She'd wanted to lean back - now she pushed back, ground back against him, a slow, steady roll of her hips that had him gasping in her ear, the sound shocked and a little broken. Real, like she'd knocked his façade down and if she looked, there would be Alec staring right back at her.
There was a kind of savage glee in it, in catching hold of his hand before he could pull back further, and pressing his fingers against the skin of her stomach, where her shirt had ridden up a little. In moving her other hand so that it now trapped his between hers and the window frame, pushing down until the metal started to bite. The gasp in her ear this time could have been pain or it could have been something else entirely. They were both fucked up enough for her not to be able to tell the difference.
Alec was still behind her, barely breathing. She closed her eyes, feeling the tension in his frame. For long seconds, they hung there motionless before he tried to ease away from her again.
She didn't let him, and she wasn't kind. She never was with Alec. Didn't know how to be, not really. Her fingers pressed his harder against the window frame, and his flexed beneath her, seeking release.
He didn't protest though, not at first, his breath now coming hot and heavy on her neck and his body warm and tight against her back. She kept her eyes closed and this time her hips rolled, pushing back against him slowly, like she had all of the time in the world. Like there wasn't a storm raging, inside and out.
Now he made a sound, the "Max" coming out like a protest and a plea all at once. She refused to give him what he wanted - or maybe she did, flush with power, with energy. With fury.
She pushed back again, slower still, rocking. This time his fingers flexed convulsively under hers - both on the window edge and on her stomach - and stilled. He was panting now, a hitch in his breath that hadn't been there before. One she'd never heard, not from Alec.
She opened her eyes just as another flash of lightning streaked across the sky. She hung there, suspended in the brilliant light for that split second when everything stopped. It was instinct to lean forward, to try and see better, peering up into the sky. Instinct to loosen her grip on Alec's fingers pressed against the window frame.
It was probably instinct that had Alec grabbing for her instead of fleeing now that she'd given him his out. Instinct that had him pulling his fingers out from under hers and wrapping both arms around her waist, pulling her sharply back against him as though afraid she'd fall.
She was in no danger of falling, not from the Space Needle.
She let him catch her, let him pull her back and hold her tight. She closed her eyes again; she could still see the after image, burned on her retinas, the rods firing even after the stimulus was removed. She was transgenic - it wouldn't last for long. Nothing ever did.
Alec's fingers were pressed back against the skin of her waist, holding her tight, his other arm wrapped just under her breasts, enveloping her in his grip. She thought - for a split second she thought - that she felt his mouth pressing against the curve of her neck, the fabric pulled tight and down by his hold on her.
Maybe she'd imagined it - wishful thinking - because a second later his head was up, staring past her into the night, as his breath stirred her hair. She missed the heat of it against her neck. His body, though, his body was a warm solid presence against her back, holding her steady, his feet bracketing hers, one knee pressing into her thigh to the point of pain. The muscles in his arms were tensed, holding her firmly against him, and she could feel the pounding rhythm of his heart against her back.
If she let go, leaned back instead of forward, her head would fit in the hollow of his shoulder, cushioned against his neck. She knew that without even having to look. She wanted to believe that knowledge was instinct, too, wanted the comfort of that lie.
She shifted, neither forward nor back, unwilling - unable - to commit one way or the other, but Alec's grip on her loosened anyway. His fingertips slid across her sensitised skin as he started to pull away, and she didn't stop him.
Not this time.
It was weird how cold she felt when he was no longer pressed against her back. Weird because Max didn't feel the cold, not with her fucked up metabolism and her fucked up life. She'd probably fucked up whatever weird kind of friendship dealio she had going on with Alec as well, finally driven him away when nothing else had, even when she'd wanted it to.
She didn't want it to now, although she had no idea why.
When she finally turned, fingers gripping the metal window frame until it bit into her flesh this time, Alec was watching her, the look on his face that wary one, a little broken around the edges. The one that said he knew she was about to throw the next punch and he was wondering where it was going to land.
It just made her want to hit him harder. But it wouldn't work. The punches he could deal - had dealt - with. It was the other things she threw at him, the words he had no defences against and that took longer to heal that put that look on his face, watchful and wary and broken. Like when she told him she should have let his head explode. That the world would be better off without him. That she would be better off without him.
Lies were always easier to swallow when they were wrapped up in a veneer of truth. Manticore had taught her that. She'd like to think that they'd taught her the cruelty of delivery that went with it too, but she'd be lying to herself.
That was all her.
And Alec - damn him - was so quick to forgive her fury, never seeming to bear a grudge and always coming back for more. She came close to hating him for that, sometimes. That more than anything.
He'd forgive but he wouldn't forget. He'd never let her off the hook entirely, wouldn't let her wriggle away from the things she didn't want to deal with. And she was running out of things to throw at him, things to put him off the scent and get him the hell out of her face.
Damn him.
"Okay..." He moved, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the one that was closest to her escape route. It was subtle but not so subtle she missed it; just enough to let her know that if she ran again, he'd be hard on her heels, maybe even beat her to the door. He wasn't letting her wriggle her way out of this one either.
She couldn't blame him for that one. Not this time. Not even when she wanted to.
"You wanna...?"
"Fight, flight or fuck," she ground out. She took a deep breath, holding it inside. It didn't help. Her fingernails were digging into her palms now, not the window frame and the energy was still thrumming through her, setting her teeth on edge.
He blinked at her, his quick mind obviously whirring away behind the politely blank look on his face. She wasn't fooled, already shifting her weight and calculating how fast she'd have to move and at what angle to beat him to the door and get a head start down the stairs, when he said, "Fight."
That threw her off balance and she paused, balanced on the cusp of flight, as he moved, slowly shifting his stance to a defensive one. The muscles shifted under his jacket, his pupils dilating, ready for her. She could smell the tension rising in him, thick and heady.
She could smell him, all Alec, all around her.
He blocked her first kick and then her second, stepping back out of range and pacing sideways around her, watching her carefully. He was making no effort to land his own blows and that just pissed her off. She didn't pull the punch she aimed at his head, putting the full force of her anger, her frustration behind it. He managed to duck that one, too, but only just and the effort of avoiding it pushed him off balance enough for the follow through blow to catch him high in the shoulder.
He hissed and staggered back a couple of steps, his eyes flashing in time with the lightning still raging outside. His fists came up again but they were still defensive; he was watching her warily over them, his momentary anger swallowed down.
She narrowed her eyes at him and feinted left before attacking to the right. He anticipated her move, dancing out of reach and now - finally - trying to land a hit of his own. There was no heat behind it, no serious attempt to knock her back or knock her down and she cut underneath his defences, catching him another glancing blow, this time on his thigh with her foot.
It pushed him back again, more than a couple of steps and he favoured that leg on his next strike, telegraphing his move. She leapt neatly out of reach, heart racing, breath panting through her parted lips, feeling alive, reckless. Free.
Feeling something.
He pulled back, watching her, his expression considering and she swung in again, low this time, trying to kick his feet out from underneath him. He jumped, flipping backwards out of reach again when she followed through with a spinning kick, aimed at his stomach. When he landed neatly, he grinned at her, eyes alight and his teeth bared.
She matched his grin with one of her own, savage and gleeful, and this time she aimed the kick at his head, keeping up the pressure as he ducked and weaved out of reach, almost dancing around the broken chairs, using the shattered table to the left of them as a springboard to spin himself out of her reach.
He was still concentrating on avoiding her rather than landing some blows of his own and she redoubled her efforts. This time the glancing blow she got in smacked him in the face, splitting his lip but not hard or deep enough to do more damage than that.
She could do better than this - had even done so the last time they'd sparred, when she'd gone up against 'Monty Cora' and kicked his ass. Kicked his ass and kicked him to the curb, and there was no way that Alec was going to be able to stop her doing it again. She drew back, watching as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and took it away again, staring down for a moment at the dark red blood smeared across his knuckles. It had smeared around his mouth as well, and she could smell it on the air. It left a taste on her tongue, as metallic as the raging storm.
She licked her lips and his pupils dilated again, reflecting back the lightning that rent the air outside. She wanted... She wanted...
He ducked under her defences and came in hard and fast, jabs and punches pushing her back. Fight. He'd chosen fight, and she'd kick his ass for it.
She took a blow to her shoulder, using the momentum of it to spin herself round and land a kick on the back of his knee. It sent him staggering forward but he recovered as fast as she did and was already facing her, hands loosely fisted at chest height, waiting for the next blow, when she reoriented herself, spinning round to face him.
She scowled and he smiled. A microcosm of every interaction between them ever, even down to the way his smile morphed into a smirk as he took a couple of steps away from her, hazel eyes watching her intently the whole time.
Another flurry of blows, driving him back, and now the adrenaline was raging through her, heightening all of her senses and making everything crisp and clear and simple. He blocked her, still watching her, and she flipped out of reach, coming down behind him. He turned, too slowly this time, banging his hip into another broken down chair in this broken down place. It caught him off balance and she took him down the rest of the way, neatly knocking his feet out from underneath him and following him down to pin him to the floor.
His head hit with a thump; the shock of it rocked through her and she was left staring down at him as the pain of it flared briefly across his face. It was quickly hidden and for once he didn't bitch or moan about it. The words to mock him died on her lips, silenced by the way her heart stuttered in her chest. His eyes were open and met hers, holding them, pupils blown wide and dark, ringed by green and gold.
He swallowed silently, not moving an inch as she hung there above him, muscles locked rigid by the electricity that flared in the night outside and in here, between them. It froze her in place, keeping her suspended above him like a fly in amber, caught up in his eyes and all the things that were raging in them, contrasting with the stillness of his body beneath hers. Then he licked his lip, eyes never leaving hers, and muttered a low, heart-felt, "Fuck."
This time it was her mouth that did the damage, hitting him hard and knocking him off balance. She tasted blood as his lip split again under her touch, hot and salty on her tongue as she traced a line across the damaged flesh. His body tensed under hers, the muscles of his arms flexing beneath her hands but she tightened her grip, holding him still for long moments while the storm thundered in her ears, in her chest.
When she pulled back, his eyes were closed and his face slack, his lip cracked and swollen where she'd first hit and then bitten it. As she watched, his eyes slowly opened, the expression on his face close to drugged, like he could be drugged, with a body like his. A body like hers.
He met her halfway this time, fierce and forceful, twisting in her grip as she held him down, ravaging his mouth again. He could buck her off easily, if he wanted to. She was barely holding on, but he didn't seem to want her gone. All he seemed to want was her: the taste of her, the fierce, slick heat of her mouth on his.
She moved her hands up his arms, keeping the pressure up even as she slid and slithered over him, pinning him down until she reached his shoulders, the back of his neck. One hand fisted in the collar of his jacket, the other in the too-long strands of his hair and now he fought back, his hands as hard, strong, bruising as hers had been. They wrapped around her back, pulling her closer, fingers digging into the muscles, not letting her escape.
Escape was the last thing on her mind. The storm was still raging and the rain thundered down. There was nowhere to run to. Not any more.
He flipped her and it was her turn to hit the floor, coming down hard and jarring on the concrete. She bit her tongue as she fell; the blood she tasted this time was hers but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing but this. He followed her down like he'd followed her here, pushing past her barriers, pushing her to the edge. His lips were moving over hers and his tongue was in mouth; she couldn't tell any longer whether the metallic taste on her tongue came from her blood or his.
That didn't matter either. All that mattered was the long, hard weight of his body pressing her down into the concrete and the scent of his blood in the air.
He pulled back as far as the hand she had tangled in his hair would let him, the expression on his face clearing as he said, "Max?" It was a question she didn't want to answer - didn't even want to acknowledge - and she twisted her fingers harder, pressing her mouth against his and swallowing down the gasp of pain he let out.
He pushed her back down, settling his weight between her parted thighs and she arched up into his touch, his lips only grazing hers. She reached up for another taste and he teased her again, pulling back just far enough so that all she got was a taste, a taste when she wanted to dive in, overindulge. She growled and he laughed, high and mocking, sure of his ground now.
At least until she dug her heel into the concrete and spun them, grinning ferally when his head hit the deck again and swallowing down that gasp of pain as well.
His pushed her up and pulled her down, fingers sliding up underneath her top to brush along the bottom curve of her breasts. He was still between her thighs and she rocked her hips down, sliding them backwards. The gasp she swallowed down this time wasn't pain. Not quite.
Thunder rolled again, closer this time until the whole room seemed to reverberate with it, a low rumble that hit her low in the belly. The wind swirled and brought the rain in with it, spattering across her heated skin. Alec's mouth followed it, warm where the raindrops had been cold, and his fingers curled, digging into her skin, stopping just short of pain.
He was too slow, too soft when what she wanted was fire and ice and thunder and rage. She grabbed at his collar again, barely registering when the fabric of his sweater tore under her grip, and sank her teeth into the junction of his neck, the place where it curved into his broad shoulder.
He swore, growling out the curse even as he tugged her head back by her hair. The brief, sharp pain did nothing to calm her down, not when the storm still raged inside her and she could taste his blood again on her tongue, heady and thick with promise.
She was laughing when he rolled them again and he froze for a second, staring down at her, his eyes still dark with lust. Then he grinned back, sharp and feral and real. His kiss this time was as hard as she needed - all teeth and tongue and heat - and she moaned as he touched her with fierce, steady hands, the strong fingers sliding over her skin. It wasn't too much - it couldn't ever be too much - and this time he held nothing back, knowing that she could match him, strength for strength, beat for beat.
She dug her fingers into his back in return, sliding them under his shirt and pulling him closer, giving no quarter and expecting none. He hissed into her mouth when her fingers became talons, scratching his skin like the cat she was. His hips bucked into her, hard, and she threw back her head, a sharp little mew escaping her as she writhed against him.
The grin he gave her this time when she opened her eyes, panting and lost, was victorious, but she wasn't willing to concede defeat just yet. They were both cats; when she slid her hand around to wrestle with the buttons of his pants, the sound he let out this time was closer to a purr than a hiss, at least until the fingers she'd left resting on his back curved again, becoming another weapon to use against him. They dug in, maybe even to the point of drawing blood again, but he twisted his body, sliding away from her vicious fingers, and laughed into her mouth before she could taste it. She swallowed it down but eased up on the pressure, the scratching coming close - as close as she'd allow - to a caress.
He didn't pull back until she slid one hand inside his pants, and then he didn't pull back far; just far enough to watch her. His face was still slack with lust, lips swollen and parted, but the eyes that watched her were clear and cool, seeing far too much for her peace of mind. He licked at his lips again, still watching her, and she growled, once more caught on the cusp between fight, flight and fuck. And then, just at the point where flight or fight seemed like the most viable option, he closed his eyes and relaxed into her touch, rolling his hips as her fingers dipped lower and lower, outlining the shape of his dick in his underwear. Then he arched, caught between sensations as she dragged her fingers along the length of his spine, as far as she could reach under his shirt.
She wanted more than that - more than just twisting just her fingers as far as she could reach under the clothing that separated her skin from his and steal a touch or two. She wanted heat and thunder and skin against sweaty skin. She wanted... everything. Fight and fuck.
His jacket went first, pushed down over his arms, and hers followed, hands battling each other as they both tried to strip the other first. Her jacket flew somewhere over his head and she growled in frustration when he let go of her so she could push his off entirely. She didn't miss the smirk he gave at the sounds she made as she ripped his sweater off over his head. This time he hissed when the fabric caught on his ears, the t-shirt coming with it, both cast aside, inside out, as far as she could fling them. She'd have returned his smirk - with interest - if she'd had any interest in anything but getting him naked by that point, but she was lost in the smooth flesh she could now explore with ease. His brief protestation turned into another moan when the hand she still had in his pants slid in deeper, underneath the fabric now, tracing along the long, lean line of his dick, hot and heavy in her hungry grasp.
She curled her fingers, moving them back and forth and feeling the slick slide of his foreskin move with her as he buried his face in her neck. Seemed they were all the same, men. Transgenic or not. Get their dicks in your hand and they would do pretty much anything you wanted just so you wouldn't stop.
Alec's hand slid slowly up the length of her arm, his fingers slipping under the edge of her short sleeve to stroke across the flesh there, too delicately for her taste. She let out another harsh sound of frustration and pulled back to yank the black fabric up over her head, shaking her hair free.
It was still hanging off one arm when he pounced, his mouth moving down over the curve of her chest, nipping at the tender skin that spilled out of black lace. She expected him to comment about it as he traced the edge of her bra with one finger - some smart ass remark about her being a girl after all - but instead he ducked lower, mouthing at her breast through the fabric and any smart remarks she had on the tip of her tongue to offer him in return were smothered by her low moan.
He pushed her back down onto the cold concrete floor, fingers already tugging at the filmy fabric as he followed her down. She turned her head, staring mindlessly out into the night where the rain still thrummed down and the thunder still roared as the sensation of his touch spread like fire over her skin.
He was good at this, and she tried not to think about Manticore training as he rolled the tight nub with his tongue. It was rough, like a cat's, and she arched into his touch, her hips and heels stuttering on the floor as she swallowed another cry. This time he caught her nipple between his teeth, tugging gently but with just enough pressure to remind her of his strength.
The feeling went straight through her, electricity thrumming through her body and leaving her wet and aching as she pressed herself against him. She slid her fingers through his hair, tugging him where she wanted him as he moved from one breast to the other and she wrapped one thigh around his, rocking against the hardness that pressed into her.
He was really good at this, and it couldn't all be because of Manticore and enhanced genes. But he was also a fucking tease, and she lifted one knee, using it to push him back far enough that she could wrestle with the fastenings of her pants. He smirked again, settling back to enjoy the view, and she scowled, planting her foot firmly in his chest and toppling him over.
He laughed, the jerk, eyes dancing as she followed him, still scowling but with her pants now unfastened. Lightning flashed across the sky outside and it must have lit something in her expression, because the laughter died from his face, leaving it stark in the moonlight. Stark and lean and hungry.
He reached for her again, pulling her down, his fingers reaching around her to unfasten her bra before that, too, was discarded. The lace scratched a little as he pulled it from her skin but his mouth was there, hot and wet, moving slowly over her chest, nipping and suckling as she gripped his biceps with tight fingers and tried to hold on.
His fingers trailed down her flat stomach, drifting past the dip of her navel before sliding into her open pants, under the flimsy fabric of her panties and then lower still, into the wet heat of her. She arched under his touch, and not even the grip she had on his arms steadied her as those same fingers pushed into her, roughly, driving a harsh cry from her lips.
He turned the tables on her again, pushing her sideways until gravity took over and sent her reeling. As she fell, twisting beneath him, he wrapped his arm behind her head, shielding her skull before it could crack open on the floor. The fall still jarred her; she was unable to land with her innate grace with Alec up so close and personal. Even closer and personal as his mouth covered hers before she'd even caught her breath. She bit his lip for his presumption and he laughed again, his body shivering against hers. There was rubble under her back and she hissed, shifting position as he moved with her, the bare flesh of his chest warm and firm against hers and the bare stone floor cold beneath her. His mouth was savage, his tongue merciless as it explored her mouth, his fingers finally slipping out of her as the pair of them wrestled, her fingernails scratching at his scalp, his shoulders, his back.
He tugged her pants down, tearing at her underwear until they gave, the fabric stinging against her skin as the threads ripped. She hissed against his mouth and his fingers came back, stroking over her hip soothingly until she growled at him again, not wanting to accept the apology or the petting, and tugged his clothing down just as viciously, all teeth and nails and need.
He jerked back, pulling impatiently at her boots as she pushed herself up on her elbows, her back a symphony of scratches and small pains and her hair a tangled mess in front of her eyes. With a huff, she pushed it back, behind her ears, not missing the smirk he gave again at that. There was blood on his chest, small beads of it where her nails had hit home. She grinned, just as wild and savage, and had the satisfaction of seeing his expression grow wary, the one boot of hers he'd managed to yank off falling to the floor with a loud thump.
Launching herself at him would have been too easy, something he expected, and she liked the illusion of being able to keep Alec off balance, even for a moment. Instead of throwing him to the floor, she arched her back, rolling her body sinuously and watching as his gaze, predictably, dropped straight to her bare breasts. She barely had time to enjoy that - and to roll her eyes, inwardly if not letting it show, at the confirmation that he was male and stupid, as if that needed any confirmation - before he licked his lips again and the heat of his regard hit her hard, low in her belly, turning her limbs to liquid.
Maybe she was just as predictable. He smirked again and she placed the sole of her still booted foot firmly in the middle of his chest, ignoring his raised eyebrow. His smirk, if anything, became more pronounced but his eyes were still watchful, even as his fingers began to wrestle with her laces.
Good. It was worth reminding him that she wasn't one of his Ordinary distractions.
Her other boot came off and was thrown back over his shoulder to land somewhere behind him. His eyes were still focused firmly on her face, his expression now tense, just as focused, like she was a problem he needed to figure out. She'd have kicked his ass - again - if her attention hadn't been drawn down to where his strong, clever fingers were finishing what she'd started - peeling his pants away from his body.
Fight, flight or fuck.
Out of all of them, fucking was the one that would remind her she was alive. She was so fucking tired of running, and he moved with an innate grace that just left her hungry and wanting.
She'd had enough of fighting and maybe she'd find a victory of sorts in defeat.
"Wait," he gasped as she pulled at him, trying to drag him back down. "Max..."
She bit at his neck, scratched deeply at his back, and he swore, low and viciously. This time the blood she tasted was hers and the sound she let out wasn't a gasp, but a mew; needy and low and just as vicious. He managed to push her far enough away to scrabble at his jacket, pulling his wallet from the pocket so hard that she could hear the seam tear.
He didn't notice. He'd curse her for it later, whine about how it was his favourite, but now his clever fingers were pulling the foil packet free, and he ripped at it with sharp teeth before he rolled the condom down over his length.
His fingers shook. She didn't need to be transgenic to pick up on that.
She'd thought she was ready for him, more than ready for him, but he shoved into her hard and deep, shifting her back a couple of inches along the floor. Grit ground into her skin, stinging with sweat, and she opened her eyes, staring sightlessly at the ceiling as he thrust in again, the metal button from his pants digging into her thigh. His breath panted harshly against her ear and this time he slid in smoothly, still deep, still hard and sending her eyes rolling back in her head.
She dug her nails into his shoulder, gouging this time rather than just scratching, lost in the storm that swirled through her. She tore at him, teeth and nails, sinking her teeth into his shoulder, and he swore again, slamming into her once, twice. Three times.
Her world came apart as lightning flashed across the sky and she was lost, suspended in the storm.
The after images were still burning bright on her retinas, behind her closed lids, when he slowed. For a moment she thought he'd come with her but he rolled his hips again sinuously, still hard, still buried in her. It set off little shivers, aftershocks rolling through her like the thunder she could hear ringing in her ears.
She shifted slightly, clenching her muscles, her fingers sliding over his skin. He gasped, pressing his mouth against hers for a moment before that too slid away, down over her cheek. She was too drained to hurry him so that she could get the hell out of Dodge, get back to the flight portion of the evening where it was safe. Instead she let her head fall back, the tension easing from her limbs as he shifted, too. It left a heavy, pleasant exhaustion in its wake and that should have scared her.
Her head should have hit the cold floor, knocked some goddamned sense into her, but his forearm was there, resting behind her and bracing him above her, both at once. Trust Alec to be too good at multitasking, but betting Manticore hadn't taught him that as well would be a sucker bet and Max was no sucker. Not usually.
He rolled his hips again, sliding in slow and sweet, and she got back with the programme, forcing her heavy eyelids open to look at him. His lip was caught between his teeth, the flesh swollen and red where she'd bitten it, and his eyes were closed, a slight frown between his brows as he rocked into her again, setting off another flurry of those little aftershocks. She shifted slightly, the muscles in her pussy tightening around him, and the frown eased, his lips parting in a soft gasp.
She did it again and his eyes drifted open, dazed and mindless. He stared down at her for a second before the smirk reappeared, blurred around the edges with lust and other things she didn't want to think about. He slid into her again, slowly, his body twisting slightly to one side so that he could pull her leg up until it rested over his hip. His next thrust was deeper and she sighed, arching into him, fingers flexing convulsively on his skin.
His free hand slid down from her knee and along her thigh, slowly, setting each and every inch of her skin tingling. It was too soft, too gentle, and she... and she...
She didn't want this. She didn't. Not even now, with her fury spent, all washed out and blown away. It was too much, his touch close to painful simply because it was as far from pain as any touch she could remember. She closed her eyes, tilting her face away from him, and his lips brushed over her cheek rather than her mouth, sliding up to the edge of her hairline.
"Max."
It came out as a whisper and she kept her eyes closed, didn't answer him.
He shifted again and there was dust in her hair, the hard floor underneath her skull. He was hovering over her now - she could feel him, his breath on her face, his belly pressed against hers, the coarse hairs of his treasure trail pressed against her soft skin. He was still moving slowly, bracing himself on both arms, one on either side of her head. She didn't need to see him to know where he was, to be able to picture the look on his face, but she opened her eyes anyway.
He kissed her again, soft and demanding all at once, a study in contradictions the way only Alec could be. This time she let him, opening her mouth to him, at first just letting his tongue slide along her teeth then meeting it with her own, tangling the two together as heat slid down to her belly, pooling there as she moaned into his mouth.
"Max," he whispered again, against her lips. "Max," against her cheek, her temple. His mouth traced over her brow, fluttered against her eyelids and she pulled her other leg up, her calf pressing against the backs of his thigh, both knees now around his waist.
He pushed himself up on both arms, his lips finally leaving her skin, and rocked back into her again, slow and deep. The pressure built again, more slowly this time, each stroke adding to it, small increments that took her closer and closer to the edge. She brought her knees up until her heels crossed each other on his ass, her hands tugging at his shoulder blades, pulling him in deeper and deeper. It wasn't enough, and she slid her hands lower, letting them glide across the firm contours of his back, a brief moment of weakness that allowed her to memorise the scent of him, the sensation of his smooth skin under her hands.
No scars on the outside but plenty to see when she opened her eyes and stared straight into his.
She closed hers again, turned her face to the side so he wouldn't see the same things on her face that were written clearly on his. He didn't seem to care, shifting again so that his weight now rested on her, arms again braced on the concrete around her head and his breath stirring her hair.
He was close - she could hear the hitch in his breath, feel the tenseness in the muscles of his stomach where they pressed against hers. Now that he was almost there, she didn't want him to stop, not when she was so close to coming again herself. That was selfish of her, she knew it, but she just didn't care - it had been so damned long since she'd been touched and now that he was touching her just right, she wanted the heat of it to spiral through her again, take her down into sweet oblivion. She wanted... She wanted...
She hitched her legs higher up his body, sliding her hands over his ass, down under the fabric of his jeans, pushing the fabric down further until there was nothing but his skin and hers. She pulled him to her, encouraging him to thrust faster, deeper, to direct the pressure of his thrusts right where she needed it the most. The tension in her was winding higher and higher until she thought she'd scream with the pleasure of it, and he gasped in her ear again, whatever words he was saying lost in the rush of blood to her head. He was coming, his dick hard and thick in her, filling her and that sensation was all it took to carry her those last few inches.
It washed over her this time, soft and slow instead of ripping her apart, the ripples of pleasure swirling through her body. Her fingers clutched at him involuntarily as she shook and gasped, pulling him closer, until his body blanketed hers, pressing her into the ground. His hands were tangled in her hair but they weren't pulling, not this time, even though the long strands slipped through his fingers as her head tossed, lost in the throes of her orgasm. His palm lightly cupped the curve of her skull, and his face was buried in her neck, muffling whatever sounds he let out as he came.
He collapsed onto her, a heavy, heated weight, and she opened her eyes, staring at the peeling ceiling. The wind swirled again, bringing the rain, but it lacked the hard, cold bite of earlier, the storm finally dying. Alec's face was still pressed against her neck, his breath hot against her skin as his grip on her slowly slackened. He shifted against her and she stifled another gasp, her entire body thrumming. She was too sensitive; his damp jeans rubbed against the skin of her thighs, and he was still in her, his dick shifting as he moved, softening now, but pressing heavily against her clit.
She let go of him, letting her hands slide down his sweaty sides and fall limply to the floor. Maybe he took that as his cue, because he slid out of her then, one hand going down to catch hold of the condom, slipping it off his length as he rose to his knees. He looked ridiculous with his jeans hanging low on his hips and dick still exposed. His hair was tousled, and small beads of blood still decorated his chest where she'd scratched him. He looked ridiculous. He looked...
He was back to watching her, his head tilted to one side and his expression almost amused. She scowled at him but his expression didn't change, still watching her closely with something in his eyes she didn't want to see. She turned her head to avoid it and pushed herself up onto her elbows, rolling over gracefully to one side to push herself to her feet. She would have flipped herself up but...
Her thighs ached and her limbs felt heavy, like she'd been well and truly fucked. It was far from a bad feeling, and she couldn't help resenting that it was Alec that had delivered it. She felt her scowl deepen, and busied herself gathering her clothes together, determined to project an air of caring as little as he seemed to.
"I guess we're back to the flight portion of tonight's entertainment, huh?" Alec asked, his voice - she was pleased to notice - a little hoarse. She turned to face him and his gaze, once again, dropping to her bare breasts. She didn't bother to hide the scowl from him this time, pulling her bra on pointedly and not bothering to reply as he sighed, finally raising his eyes to her face.
"Well, Alec, it's been swell," he ad-libbed, back to mocking because that was where he felt safest and something in her twisted, shame silencing her automatic and angry response. "We must do this again sometime." The look in his eyes was guarded, and he leant back, the tension starting to build again in his frame. It had nothing to do with heat and thunder, not this time.
She'd never been good at the morning after.
Alec pushed himself to his feet, with more grace than she had, his hands moving to fasten his jeans back up again. It was almost absent, like he was comfortable in his own skin, bare or not. Manticore training again. He snatched up his sweater and headed towards the window, staring out into the darkness outside.
"Rain's stopped," he said, pausing to pull his top back over his head before he turned to face her. The neck was shapeless where she'd torn it, and his fingers lingered there for a moment, his expression rueful. The expectant complaint didn't come, even though she'd braced herself for it. Instead he leant back against the wall, folding his arms and eyeing her in a way that made something in her stomach to twist again, but not with shame this time. She ignored him, eyes scanning around the room until she located her own top and stalking over to it. It was safer that way. "Wanna grab a beer?" Not that Alec would co-operate.
She didn't turn to face him until she'd also pulled her top back on; he might be comfortable enough in his own skin to have started this awkward conversation with his dick hanging out, but Max had been out of Manticore for longer. She'd shaken off most of their training and thought it a good thing. It was. Mostly.
She let the silence stretch out between them, hip cocked and all attitude. As expected, Alec caved first, but he did it with a smirk and a little more warmth in his eyes than usual, back to throwing her off balance again, just for a moment. Then he moved, heading towards her slowly, smoothly, his shoulders flexing just for a moment, just enough to distract her for a split second. When she looked back, his smirk was deeper, and his eyes back to opaque and unreadable.
"If we're back to the flight part of the evening," he drawled, coming just close enough to her personal space to have her tensing but not so close that she could kick his ass for it, not even when he leant in, just a fraction, to elaborate. "What say I beat you back to Crash?"
He gave her just long enough for the words to sink in and then darted towards the top of the stairs, pausing to throw her a brilliant smile. And then he was gone, the sound of his footsteps echoing back to her long after anyone else would have heard them.
He was right. The storm outside had eased and the rain stopped, and faint signs of dawn were evident on the horizon, 'though the city would still be jumping as it always did. She hesitated for a moment, staring out at the sky, washed clear of the dust and the smog, as the air settled crisply in her lungs, and then she smiled, quick and sharp, and followed him.
If the sky can crack, there must be some way back
For love and only love
- Electrical Storm, U2
The End
Author: alyse
Fandom: Dark Angel
Characters/Pairing: Max/Alec
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Seattle isn't a place of extreme weather, just of extreme wetness. But tonight there's a storm on the horizon and it promises to be something.
The Farthest Thunder That I Heard - Part 1
*
The storm was building up to another crescendo as they finally reached the foot of the Needle, lightning flashing across the sky and the slow rumble of thunder following hard on its heels. It put her on edge again, twitching with the need to move, her fingers flexing impatiently as she waited for Alec to pull the boards back behind their bikes. Another abandoned parking lot, filled with rubbish and dark as night. Story of her goddamned life.
The darkness was no obstacle, not to her. Nor to Alec, who paused for a moment, head cocked, listening to the thunder overhead. It didn't remain dark for long, another flash lighting up the garage. As it pulsed between the boards, it threw sharp, striated shadows across the concrete floor. It lit up Alec's face for a moment, too, his eyes shining in the gloom like the cat he at least partly was. For a split second, she could see everything clearly, stark against that white light - the way that his pupils were blown, wide and dark, his lips slightly parted as he stood there, body turned towards the light. He looked gleeful and entranced both at once.
She told herself that the sudden twisting in her gut was impatience, and headed for the stairs out of the underground parking lot, not waiting for him to catch up. He would anyway - he always did, even when she wanted to shake him off.
Tonight she didn't want to, and it was easier not to think about why. Easier just to keep on moving, concentrating on the pounding in her blood and not the pounding of her heart.
There were 832 steps to the top of the Needle; she'd counted them more than once, each one falling steadily beneath her feet as she raced up to what had once - according to OC - been a restaurant. This time she took every one of them with Alec hard on her heels. He was almost soundless, but she could sense him anyway, the back of her neck prickling at his closeness.
Catch me if you can.
He didn't catch her, not this time. He just let her set the pace just like he'd let her set the pace of their race through the streets, let her burn the tension out of herself. She wasn't used to this - to him not pushing her. It unsettled her, and she was beginning to hate being left unsettled by Alec, uncertain of the next step and not wanting to fall.
She picked up her speed until she was almost flying up the structure, until even her enhanced lungs were straining with the effort. Flight, fight or fuck. Those she could deal with.
She hit the top of the stairs just as another flash of lightning tore across the sky. It lit up what had been the restaurant, tables now broken and seating torn, but she didn't stop. Instead, she headed straight for the window, inexorably drawn by the tempest outside.
She'd reached it, fingers already curling around the twisted metal window frame, leaning outside for a better look when Alec finally caught up with her. Grabbed her too, pulling her back against his body again, one strong arm around her waist and his body hard and tense behind her.
She stiffened instinctively.
"Are you trying to become crispy fried Max?" His voice was exasperated and his grip didn't loosen, not even when she twisted experimentally, caught between the fury outside and the fury slowly starting to build within her. "Damn it, Max. What the hell's gotten into you? Not even transgenics are shock proof."
She knew that - Alec had proved it to her with the aid of a neat little taser. One of these days she was going to return the favour - find one and then shove it up his ass.
She was starting to pull away, more firmly this time, welcoming the anger and the familiarity of it - and she was so going to kick his ass when she got free - when another flash of lightning streaked across the sky, thunder roaring after it. The Space Needle seemed to shake in its wake and she froze on the spot, feeling the vibrations running up through her legs and through her hands where they were still wrapped around the window frame.
Alec's grip on her tightened, his fingers digging into the skin of her side even through the fabric of her jacket. His other hand was up against the window frame now, barely a hairsbreadth away from hers. If she moved her fingers slightly, they'd touch.
"Jesus," Alec breathed in her ear. Nothing else, just that soft, startled 'Jesus', from Alec - the same Alec who smirked while he told her that he wasn't destined for hell. How could he be when every church leader they'd seen being interviewed on his boob tube were categorical about it?
Transgenics - being man made - couldn't have souls.
Whatever Alec did have was awed, if that soft sound was any judge. Of course, being Alec all that meant was that 'awed' didn't translate into 'silent'.
"Now, that was impressive."
His arm slid further around her waist as he leaned forward, pushing their bodies even more closely together. His breath brushed hotly against her face and his fingers finally touched hers, curling around them as he leaned forward, peering out and up into the night sky.
His face was so close she could see every eyelash, outlined against the night sky. So close that if she turned her head, closed her eyes, her own eyelashes would have tickled the soft skin by his ear. A little further, and her lips would have brushed his cheek.
She kept her eyes open, her head still. She had no idea if this closeness was intentional, as though anything Alec did wasn't, but it sent another shiver through her, nothing to do with cold and little to do with the storm outside. He didn't notice or did and didn't let on, which was close enough for government work. Close enough for Max at least.
Too close for Max, and she had to fight that urge to turn her head, lean back and press harder against his body, all broad shoulders and fluid lines. He was damp; they both were, but she could ignore the scent of rain on her the way she couldn't ignore it on him. Not when the water was evaporating slowly from his clothes, dried out by the hyped up heat of his body, surrounding her with the smell of damp cotton and leather and rain and overlaid over all that the scent that she recognised as uniquely Alec.
He didn't smell like Ben. Ben had smelled like a child when they'd run - puberty hadn't kicked in, and his scent had been crisp and clear, not musky and complex. And later, he'd been lost and smelled like it, too - his scent sharp and fractured, as confused as his mind. He'd smelled wrong and Alec...
Alec didn't.
She'd been silent too long. Any second now he'd be in her face, wanting to know what was up, what fucked up part of her psyche was bothering her this time. He wouldn't phrase it like that, of course. If she was really unlucky, he'd phrase it in a way that meant she couldn't justify kicking his ass. He...
Damn, he was too close, his fingers a warm presence against hers as he leant out just a little further, looking down this time instead of up. Watching the traffic below, ants made misty by the rain. Or maybe just thinking Alec type thoughts, and most of the time she had no goddamned idea what those would be.
He felt good and he smelled good and she was tired - tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of losing everything. It was almost overwhelming, that temptation to press back, to let him take her weight, just for a moment. Just one, too brief second of leaning on someone, even if that someone was Alec.
But she was Max Guevara, revved up and ass kicking, and she was a hell of a lot better at taking the offensive than at lying down and just taking it. She started to pull away and his grip on her tightened instinctively. Just for a moment and for that one moment she took it, didn't fight it. Didn't fight him.
It pissed her off, being that weak - showing that weakness to Alec. It set her teeth on edge and the hairs up on the back of her neck, and put a snarl on her lips, but he was letting go almost as soon as she registered it, his fingers sliding smoothly over the curve of her belly and up the line of her hip, lingering just long enough to crumble her defences but not long enough to help her build them back up again, fortified by her anger, the anger he'd take.
Something treacherous and not to be trusted inside her wanted those fingers back, steadying and soft, and that - finally - pissed her off, pushing her over the edge from fragile to furious. She'd wanted to lean back - now she pushed back, ground back against him, a slow, steady roll of her hips that had him gasping in her ear, the sound shocked and a little broken. Real, like she'd knocked his façade down and if she looked, there would be Alec staring right back at her.
There was a kind of savage glee in it, in catching hold of his hand before he could pull back further, and pressing his fingers against the skin of her stomach, where her shirt had ridden up a little. In moving her other hand so that it now trapped his between hers and the window frame, pushing down until the metal started to bite. The gasp in her ear this time could have been pain or it could have been something else entirely. They were both fucked up enough for her not to be able to tell the difference.
Alec was still behind her, barely breathing. She closed her eyes, feeling the tension in his frame. For long seconds, they hung there motionless before he tried to ease away from her again.
She didn't let him, and she wasn't kind. She never was with Alec. Didn't know how to be, not really. Her fingers pressed his harder against the window frame, and his flexed beneath her, seeking release.
He didn't protest though, not at first, his breath now coming hot and heavy on her neck and his body warm and tight against her back. She kept her eyes closed and this time her hips rolled, pushing back against him slowly, like she had all of the time in the world. Like there wasn't a storm raging, inside and out.
Now he made a sound, the "Max" coming out like a protest and a plea all at once. She refused to give him what he wanted - or maybe she did, flush with power, with energy. With fury.
She pushed back again, slower still, rocking. This time his fingers flexed convulsively under hers - both on the window edge and on her stomach - and stilled. He was panting now, a hitch in his breath that hadn't been there before. One she'd never heard, not from Alec.
She opened her eyes just as another flash of lightning streaked across the sky. She hung there, suspended in the brilliant light for that split second when everything stopped. It was instinct to lean forward, to try and see better, peering up into the sky. Instinct to loosen her grip on Alec's fingers pressed against the window frame.
It was probably instinct that had Alec grabbing for her instead of fleeing now that she'd given him his out. Instinct that had him pulling his fingers out from under hers and wrapping both arms around her waist, pulling her sharply back against him as though afraid she'd fall.
She was in no danger of falling, not from the Space Needle.
She let him catch her, let him pull her back and hold her tight. She closed her eyes again; she could still see the after image, burned on her retinas, the rods firing even after the stimulus was removed. She was transgenic - it wouldn't last for long. Nothing ever did.
Alec's fingers were pressed back against the skin of her waist, holding her tight, his other arm wrapped just under her breasts, enveloping her in his grip. She thought - for a split second she thought - that she felt his mouth pressing against the curve of her neck, the fabric pulled tight and down by his hold on her.
Maybe she'd imagined it - wishful thinking - because a second later his head was up, staring past her into the night, as his breath stirred her hair. She missed the heat of it against her neck. His body, though, his body was a warm solid presence against her back, holding her steady, his feet bracketing hers, one knee pressing into her thigh to the point of pain. The muscles in his arms were tensed, holding her firmly against him, and she could feel the pounding rhythm of his heart against her back.
If she let go, leaned back instead of forward, her head would fit in the hollow of his shoulder, cushioned against his neck. She knew that without even having to look. She wanted to believe that knowledge was instinct, too, wanted the comfort of that lie.
She shifted, neither forward nor back, unwilling - unable - to commit one way or the other, but Alec's grip on her loosened anyway. His fingertips slid across her sensitised skin as he started to pull away, and she didn't stop him.
Not this time.
It was weird how cold she felt when he was no longer pressed against her back. Weird because Max didn't feel the cold, not with her fucked up metabolism and her fucked up life. She'd probably fucked up whatever weird kind of friendship dealio she had going on with Alec as well, finally driven him away when nothing else had, even when she'd wanted it to.
She didn't want it to now, although she had no idea why.
When she finally turned, fingers gripping the metal window frame until it bit into her flesh this time, Alec was watching her, the look on his face that wary one, a little broken around the edges. The one that said he knew she was about to throw the next punch and he was wondering where it was going to land.
It just made her want to hit him harder. But it wouldn't work. The punches he could deal - had dealt - with. It was the other things she threw at him, the words he had no defences against and that took longer to heal that put that look on his face, watchful and wary and broken. Like when she told him she should have let his head explode. That the world would be better off without him. That she would be better off without him.
Lies were always easier to swallow when they were wrapped up in a veneer of truth. Manticore had taught her that. She'd like to think that they'd taught her the cruelty of delivery that went with it too, but she'd be lying to herself.
That was all her.
And Alec - damn him - was so quick to forgive her fury, never seeming to bear a grudge and always coming back for more. She came close to hating him for that, sometimes. That more than anything.
He'd forgive but he wouldn't forget. He'd never let her off the hook entirely, wouldn't let her wriggle away from the things she didn't want to deal with. And she was running out of things to throw at him, things to put him off the scent and get him the hell out of her face.
Damn him.
"Okay..." He moved, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the one that was closest to her escape route. It was subtle but not so subtle she missed it; just enough to let her know that if she ran again, he'd be hard on her heels, maybe even beat her to the door. He wasn't letting her wriggle her way out of this one either.
She couldn't blame him for that one. Not this time. Not even when she wanted to.
"You wanna...?"
"Fight, flight or fuck," she ground out. She took a deep breath, holding it inside. It didn't help. Her fingernails were digging into her palms now, not the window frame and the energy was still thrumming through her, setting her teeth on edge.
He blinked at her, his quick mind obviously whirring away behind the politely blank look on his face. She wasn't fooled, already shifting her weight and calculating how fast she'd have to move and at what angle to beat him to the door and get a head start down the stairs, when he said, "Fight."
That threw her off balance and she paused, balanced on the cusp of flight, as he moved, slowly shifting his stance to a defensive one. The muscles shifted under his jacket, his pupils dilating, ready for her. She could smell the tension rising in him, thick and heady.
She could smell him, all Alec, all around her.
He blocked her first kick and then her second, stepping back out of range and pacing sideways around her, watching her carefully. He was making no effort to land his own blows and that just pissed her off. She didn't pull the punch she aimed at his head, putting the full force of her anger, her frustration behind it. He managed to duck that one, too, but only just and the effort of avoiding it pushed him off balance enough for the follow through blow to catch him high in the shoulder.
He hissed and staggered back a couple of steps, his eyes flashing in time with the lightning still raging outside. His fists came up again but they were still defensive; he was watching her warily over them, his momentary anger swallowed down.
She narrowed her eyes at him and feinted left before attacking to the right. He anticipated her move, dancing out of reach and now - finally - trying to land a hit of his own. There was no heat behind it, no serious attempt to knock her back or knock her down and she cut underneath his defences, catching him another glancing blow, this time on his thigh with her foot.
It pushed him back again, more than a couple of steps and he favoured that leg on his next strike, telegraphing his move. She leapt neatly out of reach, heart racing, breath panting through her parted lips, feeling alive, reckless. Free.
Feeling something.
He pulled back, watching her, his expression considering and she swung in again, low this time, trying to kick his feet out from underneath him. He jumped, flipping backwards out of reach again when she followed through with a spinning kick, aimed at his stomach. When he landed neatly, he grinned at her, eyes alight and his teeth bared.
She matched his grin with one of her own, savage and gleeful, and this time she aimed the kick at his head, keeping up the pressure as he ducked and weaved out of reach, almost dancing around the broken chairs, using the shattered table to the left of them as a springboard to spin himself out of her reach.
He was still concentrating on avoiding her rather than landing some blows of his own and she redoubled her efforts. This time the glancing blow she got in smacked him in the face, splitting his lip but not hard or deep enough to do more damage than that.
She could do better than this - had even done so the last time they'd sparred, when she'd gone up against 'Monty Cora' and kicked his ass. Kicked his ass and kicked him to the curb, and there was no way that Alec was going to be able to stop her doing it again. She drew back, watching as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and took it away again, staring down for a moment at the dark red blood smeared across his knuckles. It had smeared around his mouth as well, and she could smell it on the air. It left a taste on her tongue, as metallic as the raging storm.
She licked her lips and his pupils dilated again, reflecting back the lightning that rent the air outside. She wanted... She wanted...
He ducked under her defences and came in hard and fast, jabs and punches pushing her back. Fight. He'd chosen fight, and she'd kick his ass for it.
She took a blow to her shoulder, using the momentum of it to spin herself round and land a kick on the back of his knee. It sent him staggering forward but he recovered as fast as she did and was already facing her, hands loosely fisted at chest height, waiting for the next blow, when she reoriented herself, spinning round to face him.
She scowled and he smiled. A microcosm of every interaction between them ever, even down to the way his smile morphed into a smirk as he took a couple of steps away from her, hazel eyes watching her intently the whole time.
Another flurry of blows, driving him back, and now the adrenaline was raging through her, heightening all of her senses and making everything crisp and clear and simple. He blocked her, still watching her, and she flipped out of reach, coming down behind him. He turned, too slowly this time, banging his hip into another broken down chair in this broken down place. It caught him off balance and she took him down the rest of the way, neatly knocking his feet out from underneath him and following him down to pin him to the floor.
His head hit with a thump; the shock of it rocked through her and she was left staring down at him as the pain of it flared briefly across his face. It was quickly hidden and for once he didn't bitch or moan about it. The words to mock him died on her lips, silenced by the way her heart stuttered in her chest. His eyes were open and met hers, holding them, pupils blown wide and dark, ringed by green and gold.
He swallowed silently, not moving an inch as she hung there above him, muscles locked rigid by the electricity that flared in the night outside and in here, between them. It froze her in place, keeping her suspended above him like a fly in amber, caught up in his eyes and all the things that were raging in them, contrasting with the stillness of his body beneath hers. Then he licked his lip, eyes never leaving hers, and muttered a low, heart-felt, "Fuck."
This time it was her mouth that did the damage, hitting him hard and knocking him off balance. She tasted blood as his lip split again under her touch, hot and salty on her tongue as she traced a line across the damaged flesh. His body tensed under hers, the muscles of his arms flexing beneath her hands but she tightened her grip, holding him still for long moments while the storm thundered in her ears, in her chest.
When she pulled back, his eyes were closed and his face slack, his lip cracked and swollen where she'd first hit and then bitten it. As she watched, his eyes slowly opened, the expression on his face close to drugged, like he could be drugged, with a body like his. A body like hers.
He met her halfway this time, fierce and forceful, twisting in her grip as she held him down, ravaging his mouth again. He could buck her off easily, if he wanted to. She was barely holding on, but he didn't seem to want her gone. All he seemed to want was her: the taste of her, the fierce, slick heat of her mouth on his.
She moved her hands up his arms, keeping the pressure up even as she slid and slithered over him, pinning him down until she reached his shoulders, the back of his neck. One hand fisted in the collar of his jacket, the other in the too-long strands of his hair and now he fought back, his hands as hard, strong, bruising as hers had been. They wrapped around her back, pulling her closer, fingers digging into the muscles, not letting her escape.
Escape was the last thing on her mind. The storm was still raging and the rain thundered down. There was nowhere to run to. Not any more.
He flipped her and it was her turn to hit the floor, coming down hard and jarring on the concrete. She bit her tongue as she fell; the blood she tasted this time was hers but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing but this. He followed her down like he'd followed her here, pushing past her barriers, pushing her to the edge. His lips were moving over hers and his tongue was in mouth; she couldn't tell any longer whether the metallic taste on her tongue came from her blood or his.
That didn't matter either. All that mattered was the long, hard weight of his body pressing her down into the concrete and the scent of his blood in the air.
He pulled back as far as the hand she had tangled in his hair would let him, the expression on his face clearing as he said, "Max?" It was a question she didn't want to answer - didn't even want to acknowledge - and she twisted her fingers harder, pressing her mouth against his and swallowing down the gasp of pain he let out.
He pushed her back down, settling his weight between her parted thighs and she arched up into his touch, his lips only grazing hers. She reached up for another taste and he teased her again, pulling back just far enough so that all she got was a taste, a taste when she wanted to dive in, overindulge. She growled and he laughed, high and mocking, sure of his ground now.
At least until she dug her heel into the concrete and spun them, grinning ferally when his head hit the deck again and swallowing down that gasp of pain as well.
His pushed her up and pulled her down, fingers sliding up underneath her top to brush along the bottom curve of her breasts. He was still between her thighs and she rocked her hips down, sliding them backwards. The gasp she swallowed down this time wasn't pain. Not quite.
Thunder rolled again, closer this time until the whole room seemed to reverberate with it, a low rumble that hit her low in the belly. The wind swirled and brought the rain in with it, spattering across her heated skin. Alec's mouth followed it, warm where the raindrops had been cold, and his fingers curled, digging into her skin, stopping just short of pain.
He was too slow, too soft when what she wanted was fire and ice and thunder and rage. She grabbed at his collar again, barely registering when the fabric of his sweater tore under her grip, and sank her teeth into the junction of his neck, the place where it curved into his broad shoulder.
He swore, growling out the curse even as he tugged her head back by her hair. The brief, sharp pain did nothing to calm her down, not when the storm still raged inside her and she could taste his blood again on her tongue, heady and thick with promise.
She was laughing when he rolled them again and he froze for a second, staring down at her, his eyes still dark with lust. Then he grinned back, sharp and feral and real. His kiss this time was as hard as she needed - all teeth and tongue and heat - and she moaned as he touched her with fierce, steady hands, the strong fingers sliding over her skin. It wasn't too much - it couldn't ever be too much - and this time he held nothing back, knowing that she could match him, strength for strength, beat for beat.
She dug her fingers into his back in return, sliding them under his shirt and pulling him closer, giving no quarter and expecting none. He hissed into her mouth when her fingers became talons, scratching his skin like the cat she was. His hips bucked into her, hard, and she threw back her head, a sharp little mew escaping her as she writhed against him.
The grin he gave her this time when she opened her eyes, panting and lost, was victorious, but she wasn't willing to concede defeat just yet. They were both cats; when she slid her hand around to wrestle with the buttons of his pants, the sound he let out this time was closer to a purr than a hiss, at least until the fingers she'd left resting on his back curved again, becoming another weapon to use against him. They dug in, maybe even to the point of drawing blood again, but he twisted his body, sliding away from her vicious fingers, and laughed into her mouth before she could taste it. She swallowed it down but eased up on the pressure, the scratching coming close - as close as she'd allow - to a caress.
He didn't pull back until she slid one hand inside his pants, and then he didn't pull back far; just far enough to watch her. His face was still slack with lust, lips swollen and parted, but the eyes that watched her were clear and cool, seeing far too much for her peace of mind. He licked at his lips again, still watching her, and she growled, once more caught on the cusp between fight, flight and fuck. And then, just at the point where flight or fight seemed like the most viable option, he closed his eyes and relaxed into her touch, rolling his hips as her fingers dipped lower and lower, outlining the shape of his dick in his underwear. Then he arched, caught between sensations as she dragged her fingers along the length of his spine, as far as she could reach under his shirt.
She wanted more than that - more than just twisting just her fingers as far as she could reach under the clothing that separated her skin from his and steal a touch or two. She wanted heat and thunder and skin against sweaty skin. She wanted... everything. Fight and fuck.
His jacket went first, pushed down over his arms, and hers followed, hands battling each other as they both tried to strip the other first. Her jacket flew somewhere over his head and she growled in frustration when he let go of her so she could push his off entirely. She didn't miss the smirk he gave at the sounds she made as she ripped his sweater off over his head. This time he hissed when the fabric caught on his ears, the t-shirt coming with it, both cast aside, inside out, as far as she could fling them. She'd have returned his smirk - with interest - if she'd had any interest in anything but getting him naked by that point, but she was lost in the smooth flesh she could now explore with ease. His brief protestation turned into another moan when the hand she still had in his pants slid in deeper, underneath the fabric now, tracing along the long, lean line of his dick, hot and heavy in her hungry grasp.
She curled her fingers, moving them back and forth and feeling the slick slide of his foreskin move with her as he buried his face in her neck. Seemed they were all the same, men. Transgenic or not. Get their dicks in your hand and they would do pretty much anything you wanted just so you wouldn't stop.
Alec's hand slid slowly up the length of her arm, his fingers slipping under the edge of her short sleeve to stroke across the flesh there, too delicately for her taste. She let out another harsh sound of frustration and pulled back to yank the black fabric up over her head, shaking her hair free.
It was still hanging off one arm when he pounced, his mouth moving down over the curve of her chest, nipping at the tender skin that spilled out of black lace. She expected him to comment about it as he traced the edge of her bra with one finger - some smart ass remark about her being a girl after all - but instead he ducked lower, mouthing at her breast through the fabric and any smart remarks she had on the tip of her tongue to offer him in return were smothered by her low moan.
He pushed her back down onto the cold concrete floor, fingers already tugging at the filmy fabric as he followed her down. She turned her head, staring mindlessly out into the night where the rain still thrummed down and the thunder still roared as the sensation of his touch spread like fire over her skin.
He was good at this, and she tried not to think about Manticore training as he rolled the tight nub with his tongue. It was rough, like a cat's, and she arched into his touch, her hips and heels stuttering on the floor as she swallowed another cry. This time he caught her nipple between his teeth, tugging gently but with just enough pressure to remind her of his strength.
The feeling went straight through her, electricity thrumming through her body and leaving her wet and aching as she pressed herself against him. She slid her fingers through his hair, tugging him where she wanted him as he moved from one breast to the other and she wrapped one thigh around his, rocking against the hardness that pressed into her.
He was really good at this, and it couldn't all be because of Manticore and enhanced genes. But he was also a fucking tease, and she lifted one knee, using it to push him back far enough that she could wrestle with the fastenings of her pants. He smirked again, settling back to enjoy the view, and she scowled, planting her foot firmly in his chest and toppling him over.
He laughed, the jerk, eyes dancing as she followed him, still scowling but with her pants now unfastened. Lightning flashed across the sky outside and it must have lit something in her expression, because the laughter died from his face, leaving it stark in the moonlight. Stark and lean and hungry.
He reached for her again, pulling her down, his fingers reaching around her to unfasten her bra before that, too, was discarded. The lace scratched a little as he pulled it from her skin but his mouth was there, hot and wet, moving slowly over her chest, nipping and suckling as she gripped his biceps with tight fingers and tried to hold on.
His fingers trailed down her flat stomach, drifting past the dip of her navel before sliding into her open pants, under the flimsy fabric of her panties and then lower still, into the wet heat of her. She arched under his touch, and not even the grip she had on his arms steadied her as those same fingers pushed into her, roughly, driving a harsh cry from her lips.
He turned the tables on her again, pushing her sideways until gravity took over and sent her reeling. As she fell, twisting beneath him, he wrapped his arm behind her head, shielding her skull before it could crack open on the floor. The fall still jarred her; she was unable to land with her innate grace with Alec up so close and personal. Even closer and personal as his mouth covered hers before she'd even caught her breath. She bit his lip for his presumption and he laughed again, his body shivering against hers. There was rubble under her back and she hissed, shifting position as he moved with her, the bare flesh of his chest warm and firm against hers and the bare stone floor cold beneath her. His mouth was savage, his tongue merciless as it explored her mouth, his fingers finally slipping out of her as the pair of them wrestled, her fingernails scratching at his scalp, his shoulders, his back.
He tugged her pants down, tearing at her underwear until they gave, the fabric stinging against her skin as the threads ripped. She hissed against his mouth and his fingers came back, stroking over her hip soothingly until she growled at him again, not wanting to accept the apology or the petting, and tugged his clothing down just as viciously, all teeth and nails and need.
He jerked back, pulling impatiently at her boots as she pushed herself up on her elbows, her back a symphony of scratches and small pains and her hair a tangled mess in front of her eyes. With a huff, she pushed it back, behind her ears, not missing the smirk he gave again at that. There was blood on his chest, small beads of it where her nails had hit home. She grinned, just as wild and savage, and had the satisfaction of seeing his expression grow wary, the one boot of hers he'd managed to yank off falling to the floor with a loud thump.
Launching herself at him would have been too easy, something he expected, and she liked the illusion of being able to keep Alec off balance, even for a moment. Instead of throwing him to the floor, she arched her back, rolling her body sinuously and watching as his gaze, predictably, dropped straight to her bare breasts. She barely had time to enjoy that - and to roll her eyes, inwardly if not letting it show, at the confirmation that he was male and stupid, as if that needed any confirmation - before he licked his lips again and the heat of his regard hit her hard, low in her belly, turning her limbs to liquid.
Maybe she was just as predictable. He smirked again and she placed the sole of her still booted foot firmly in the middle of his chest, ignoring his raised eyebrow. His smirk, if anything, became more pronounced but his eyes were still watchful, even as his fingers began to wrestle with her laces.
Good. It was worth reminding him that she wasn't one of his Ordinary distractions.
Her other boot came off and was thrown back over his shoulder to land somewhere behind him. His eyes were still focused firmly on her face, his expression now tense, just as focused, like she was a problem he needed to figure out. She'd have kicked his ass - again - if her attention hadn't been drawn down to where his strong, clever fingers were finishing what she'd started - peeling his pants away from his body.
Fight, flight or fuck.
Out of all of them, fucking was the one that would remind her she was alive. She was so fucking tired of running, and he moved with an innate grace that just left her hungry and wanting.
She'd had enough of fighting and maybe she'd find a victory of sorts in defeat.
"Wait," he gasped as she pulled at him, trying to drag him back down. "Max..."
She bit at his neck, scratched deeply at his back, and he swore, low and viciously. This time the blood she tasted was hers and the sound she let out wasn't a gasp, but a mew; needy and low and just as vicious. He managed to push her far enough away to scrabble at his jacket, pulling his wallet from the pocket so hard that she could hear the seam tear.
He didn't notice. He'd curse her for it later, whine about how it was his favourite, but now his clever fingers were pulling the foil packet free, and he ripped at it with sharp teeth before he rolled the condom down over his length.
His fingers shook. She didn't need to be transgenic to pick up on that.
She'd thought she was ready for him, more than ready for him, but he shoved into her hard and deep, shifting her back a couple of inches along the floor. Grit ground into her skin, stinging with sweat, and she opened her eyes, staring sightlessly at the ceiling as he thrust in again, the metal button from his pants digging into her thigh. His breath panted harshly against her ear and this time he slid in smoothly, still deep, still hard and sending her eyes rolling back in her head.
She dug her nails into his shoulder, gouging this time rather than just scratching, lost in the storm that swirled through her. She tore at him, teeth and nails, sinking her teeth into his shoulder, and he swore again, slamming into her once, twice. Three times.
Her world came apart as lightning flashed across the sky and she was lost, suspended in the storm.
The after images were still burning bright on her retinas, behind her closed lids, when he slowed. For a moment she thought he'd come with her but he rolled his hips again sinuously, still hard, still buried in her. It set off little shivers, aftershocks rolling through her like the thunder she could hear ringing in her ears.
She shifted slightly, clenching her muscles, her fingers sliding over his skin. He gasped, pressing his mouth against hers for a moment before that too slid away, down over her cheek. She was too drained to hurry him so that she could get the hell out of Dodge, get back to the flight portion of the evening where it was safe. Instead she let her head fall back, the tension easing from her limbs as he shifted, too. It left a heavy, pleasant exhaustion in its wake and that should have scared her.
Her head should have hit the cold floor, knocked some goddamned sense into her, but his forearm was there, resting behind her and bracing him above her, both at once. Trust Alec to be too good at multitasking, but betting Manticore hadn't taught him that as well would be a sucker bet and Max was no sucker. Not usually.
He rolled his hips again, sliding in slow and sweet, and she got back with the programme, forcing her heavy eyelids open to look at him. His lip was caught between his teeth, the flesh swollen and red where she'd bitten it, and his eyes were closed, a slight frown between his brows as he rocked into her again, setting off another flurry of those little aftershocks. She shifted slightly, the muscles in her pussy tightening around him, and the frown eased, his lips parting in a soft gasp.
She did it again and his eyes drifted open, dazed and mindless. He stared down at her for a second before the smirk reappeared, blurred around the edges with lust and other things she didn't want to think about. He slid into her again, slowly, his body twisting slightly to one side so that he could pull her leg up until it rested over his hip. His next thrust was deeper and she sighed, arching into him, fingers flexing convulsively on his skin.
His free hand slid down from her knee and along her thigh, slowly, setting each and every inch of her skin tingling. It was too soft, too gentle, and she... and she...
She didn't want this. She didn't. Not even now, with her fury spent, all washed out and blown away. It was too much, his touch close to painful simply because it was as far from pain as any touch she could remember. She closed her eyes, tilting her face away from him, and his lips brushed over her cheek rather than her mouth, sliding up to the edge of her hairline.
"Max."
It came out as a whisper and she kept her eyes closed, didn't answer him.
He shifted again and there was dust in her hair, the hard floor underneath her skull. He was hovering over her now - she could feel him, his breath on her face, his belly pressed against hers, the coarse hairs of his treasure trail pressed against her soft skin. He was still moving slowly, bracing himself on both arms, one on either side of her head. She didn't need to see him to know where he was, to be able to picture the look on his face, but she opened her eyes anyway.
He kissed her again, soft and demanding all at once, a study in contradictions the way only Alec could be. This time she let him, opening her mouth to him, at first just letting his tongue slide along her teeth then meeting it with her own, tangling the two together as heat slid down to her belly, pooling there as she moaned into his mouth.
"Max," he whispered again, against her lips. "Max," against her cheek, her temple. His mouth traced over her brow, fluttered against her eyelids and she pulled her other leg up, her calf pressing against the backs of his thigh, both knees now around his waist.
He pushed himself up on both arms, his lips finally leaving her skin, and rocked back into her again, slow and deep. The pressure built again, more slowly this time, each stroke adding to it, small increments that took her closer and closer to the edge. She brought her knees up until her heels crossed each other on his ass, her hands tugging at his shoulder blades, pulling him in deeper and deeper. It wasn't enough, and she slid her hands lower, letting them glide across the firm contours of his back, a brief moment of weakness that allowed her to memorise the scent of him, the sensation of his smooth skin under her hands.
No scars on the outside but plenty to see when she opened her eyes and stared straight into his.
She closed hers again, turned her face to the side so he wouldn't see the same things on her face that were written clearly on his. He didn't seem to care, shifting again so that his weight now rested on her, arms again braced on the concrete around her head and his breath stirring her hair.
He was close - she could hear the hitch in his breath, feel the tenseness in the muscles of his stomach where they pressed against hers. Now that he was almost there, she didn't want him to stop, not when she was so close to coming again herself. That was selfish of her, she knew it, but she just didn't care - it had been so damned long since she'd been touched and now that he was touching her just right, she wanted the heat of it to spiral through her again, take her down into sweet oblivion. She wanted... She wanted...
She hitched her legs higher up his body, sliding her hands over his ass, down under the fabric of his jeans, pushing the fabric down further until there was nothing but his skin and hers. She pulled him to her, encouraging him to thrust faster, deeper, to direct the pressure of his thrusts right where she needed it the most. The tension in her was winding higher and higher until she thought she'd scream with the pleasure of it, and he gasped in her ear again, whatever words he was saying lost in the rush of blood to her head. He was coming, his dick hard and thick in her, filling her and that sensation was all it took to carry her those last few inches.
It washed over her this time, soft and slow instead of ripping her apart, the ripples of pleasure swirling through her body. Her fingers clutched at him involuntarily as she shook and gasped, pulling him closer, until his body blanketed hers, pressing her into the ground. His hands were tangled in her hair but they weren't pulling, not this time, even though the long strands slipped through his fingers as her head tossed, lost in the throes of her orgasm. His palm lightly cupped the curve of her skull, and his face was buried in her neck, muffling whatever sounds he let out as he came.
He collapsed onto her, a heavy, heated weight, and she opened her eyes, staring at the peeling ceiling. The wind swirled again, bringing the rain, but it lacked the hard, cold bite of earlier, the storm finally dying. Alec's face was still pressed against her neck, his breath hot against her skin as his grip on her slowly slackened. He shifted against her and she stifled another gasp, her entire body thrumming. She was too sensitive; his damp jeans rubbed against the skin of her thighs, and he was still in her, his dick shifting as he moved, softening now, but pressing heavily against her clit.
She let go of him, letting her hands slide down his sweaty sides and fall limply to the floor. Maybe he took that as his cue, because he slid out of her then, one hand going down to catch hold of the condom, slipping it off his length as he rose to his knees. He looked ridiculous with his jeans hanging low on his hips and dick still exposed. His hair was tousled, and small beads of blood still decorated his chest where she'd scratched him. He looked ridiculous. He looked...
He was back to watching her, his head tilted to one side and his expression almost amused. She scowled at him but his expression didn't change, still watching her closely with something in his eyes she didn't want to see. She turned her head to avoid it and pushed herself up onto her elbows, rolling over gracefully to one side to push herself to her feet. She would have flipped herself up but...
Her thighs ached and her limbs felt heavy, like she'd been well and truly fucked. It was far from a bad feeling, and she couldn't help resenting that it was Alec that had delivered it. She felt her scowl deepen, and busied herself gathering her clothes together, determined to project an air of caring as little as he seemed to.
"I guess we're back to the flight portion of tonight's entertainment, huh?" Alec asked, his voice - she was pleased to notice - a little hoarse. She turned to face him and his gaze, once again, dropping to her bare breasts. She didn't bother to hide the scowl from him this time, pulling her bra on pointedly and not bothering to reply as he sighed, finally raising his eyes to her face.
"Well, Alec, it's been swell," he ad-libbed, back to mocking because that was where he felt safest and something in her twisted, shame silencing her automatic and angry response. "We must do this again sometime." The look in his eyes was guarded, and he leant back, the tension starting to build again in his frame. It had nothing to do with heat and thunder, not this time.
She'd never been good at the morning after.
Alec pushed himself to his feet, with more grace than she had, his hands moving to fasten his jeans back up again. It was almost absent, like he was comfortable in his own skin, bare or not. Manticore training again. He snatched up his sweater and headed towards the window, staring out into the darkness outside.
"Rain's stopped," he said, pausing to pull his top back over his head before he turned to face her. The neck was shapeless where she'd torn it, and his fingers lingered there for a moment, his expression rueful. The expectant complaint didn't come, even though she'd braced herself for it. Instead he leant back against the wall, folding his arms and eyeing her in a way that made something in her stomach to twist again, but not with shame this time. She ignored him, eyes scanning around the room until she located her own top and stalking over to it. It was safer that way. "Wanna grab a beer?" Not that Alec would co-operate.
She didn't turn to face him until she'd also pulled her top back on; he might be comfortable enough in his own skin to have started this awkward conversation with his dick hanging out, but Max had been out of Manticore for longer. She'd shaken off most of their training and thought it a good thing. It was. Mostly.
She let the silence stretch out between them, hip cocked and all attitude. As expected, Alec caved first, but he did it with a smirk and a little more warmth in his eyes than usual, back to throwing her off balance again, just for a moment. Then he moved, heading towards her slowly, smoothly, his shoulders flexing just for a moment, just enough to distract her for a split second. When she looked back, his smirk was deeper, and his eyes back to opaque and unreadable.
"If we're back to the flight part of the evening," he drawled, coming just close enough to her personal space to have her tensing but not so close that she could kick his ass for it, not even when he leant in, just a fraction, to elaborate. "What say I beat you back to Crash?"
He gave her just long enough for the words to sink in and then darted towards the top of the stairs, pausing to throw her a brilliant smile. And then he was gone, the sound of his footsteps echoing back to her long after anyone else would have heard them.
He was right. The storm outside had eased and the rain stopped, and faint signs of dawn were evident on the horizon, 'though the city would still be jumping as it always did. She hesitated for a moment, staring out at the sky, washed clear of the dust and the smog, as the air settled crisply in her lungs, and then she smiled, quick and sharp, and followed him.
If the sky can crack, there must be some way back
For love and only love
- Electrical Storm, U2
The End