It's all about the Apocabooty, baby...
Keep 'em coming, it's only 2:30! I'm here another three damn hours!
Slightly pornier, this time...
Dot/Bob
Han/Leia
Daniel/Sha're (Kym's fault, for using my Daniel icon)
Vader/Fett
Eighth (RepliCarter)/Dark Phoenix
Ripley/Call
AndrAIa/Matrix (which is almost like writing Sam/Jack or Dom/Nate, except that Jack is Nate and Sam is... Daniel)
Ripley/Hicks
Ripley/Kyle Reese
It was weird. He'd spent too long floating in the web, desperate to get back to reality (as real as Mainframe ever was) because of her.
Bob had tried to tell her, but she wouldn't listen. Too busy handing over her own guilt and anguish.
Until it was too much. "Dot."
His voice had echoed in her office, and he suddenly knew what he had to do.
Ever since that kiss at the end of the world (or the beginning, as some were calling it. System Time was strange), he'd been feeling, something.
"Bob."
He was moving before she could stop him, tangling his finger into the small hairs at the base of her skull. "Did I ever tell you how sexy you look in leather?"
"What?"
He took her surprise in stride, and kissed her, gently. "It wasn't your fault."
"Fine." Her arms slid around his waist, and she smirked. "Then it wasn't yours, either."
"Hey, it--"
Her lips silenced him. And then her tongue did more than silence him.
=-0=-=
In five seconds, Leia will tell Han to stop. His lips are kissing their way down her neck, but she will tell him to stop.
Ten seconds after, she determines that another five seconds are required.
His hand is inside her flight pants and his fingers are doing things good little Princesses aren't supposed to know about (much less enjoy, and their are trade alliances hanging in the balance, but she doesn't think of them).
In five seconds, she thinks as his mouth closes on her left breast, sucking hard and causing a whimper to escape, she will tell him to stop.
He is so very damn good with his mouth and hands, and she loses track of the time.
In five seconds, the hazy thought comes when he's buried inside of her and Princess Leia Organa is begging him to go faster in a hoarse voice she barely recognises, she should tell him to stop.
There is a lack of finesse in her responses (and she's always supposed to be in control, 19, and the youngest member of the Imperial Senate, but she isn't in control here), but he doesn't seem to care. Seems to delight in the artless cries and sounds she makes when she shatters.
In five seconds, the thought drifts across her mind as he settles against her, drawing her head onto his shoulder, she will tell him she has to go.
But she really doesn't want to.
=-=-=-=-
In the beginning, there had been awkwardness. Sha're was new to physical relations, and Daniel hadn't pushed. He also knew that his experience wasn't that large. Yes, there had been Sarah. But Sarah was over a year ago, and in the end, their sex had been nothing but bitter recrimination.
When he holds Sha're, when he slides inside of her, he knows this *this* is making love.
She is, quite simply, earthy and real around him. And he likes that, enjoys the soft sounds she makes, the full-throated cries when he hits the correct spot at the right moment.
The others think Daniel might give her a little too much leeway. As a woman, she is not supposed to wear the pants in their relationship.
But Daniel has seen too many women treated as second-class citizens. On digs, in hovels in great cities across the nations of the great world Earth. And so he allows her everything. Because he loves her. She was hesitant, at first. But the confidence that had led him to the caves where the kartoush had resided translated elsewhere.
They fight, sometimes, passionate, blazing rows that might once have scared him.
But they know they will come back to each other, and the making up is always bittersweet and passionate. She mocks him, sometimes, gently.
And Daniel thanks Kasuf every day for giving him the treasure that is his daughter.
He can't imagine life without her.
So he never tries.
=-=-=-=-
It takes perserverence, Fett thinks as he closes his lips around something he can only half see. Perseverence and guile and corruption and a hundred things he rarely has to think about when he's out stalking his prey.
But right now, he's stalking other prey.
The dark lord of the Sith has his hard cock in the mouth of a bounty hunter. He wonders who would pay for this privilege, or if it's merely something that Vader is doing to pass the time.
A grunt from above, in that deep voice that makes the shivers race down the spine.
The underlying menace of power absolute that made him drop to his knees in the first place. That has him sucking off Darth Vader.
In some twisted part of his mind, Boba Fett thinks there might be something wrong, but he's too busy sucking and tasting as Vader thrusts into his mouth to care.
Either that, or he's enjoying this.
It could make a good story to sell.
=-=-=-
I feel the movement in the stars, the air ten trillion lungs breathe in. Breathe out. And burn.
A voice distracts, and I turn, towering in my rage at this supplicant.
She's blonde and lithe, sleek as she watches me. I can feel the edges of her mind, the way it dances and chitters away from the light. "So."
A smile, my eyes traveling over her. "I am fire and life incarnate. Wanna go for a ride, little girl?"
"Can we play pool with planets?" Her tone is derisive, and I wonder how easy it would be to simply rewrite her molecules, tell them that she is made of dust and bone. Flesh and blood and skin that can rend so very easily.
I want to taste her. I want to experience everything she has.
There is no chance for the little replicator. One instant, she is whole and alone, her own being, the next... She is me and I am her, and we are all together. A bad song, but apt. I smile as I skitter through her consciousness, tasting this, pushing that. I find the boundaries of what she is capable of and push them further.
This is life and death.
This is living.
I am the phoenix.
-=-=-=
"I didn't expect this." Her voice echoes back to her, in the room. And she doesn't understand why.
Ripley's eyes are cold and hard and mocking. "Didn't you?"
Didn't you, didn't you...
Echoes, again. She doesn't want echoes.
"To think, to feel, to touch, to taste." No echo, this time.
Pain and pleasure scamper down robotic android nerves that aren't supposed to allow for this sort of thing, and the sensation is almost overwhelming.
Ripley's cry of completion scares her. She doesn't understand how this works. There was knowledge, once, but it's disappeared.
There's a buzzing sound, there. Now, here.
"I didn't expect this."
She whispers into the dark of no one's mind.
Of course she didn't.
=-=-=-
"C'mon, Sparky."
"Stop calling me that."
A brief flash of teeth as she grins at him, and Enzo Matrix is head over heels, yet again. There's a stupid grin near the edge of his lips, and he knows it. She does, too, but doesn't press.
Her hand jostles his elbow. "Why not, lover?"
Uh-oh. He knows this tone of voice. "Because it, uh, irritates me?"
"Wrong answer," she whispers against his ear.
Then she is sliding down his body, taking full advantage of the fact that he (according to her) is much easier to control than she is. He comes with a handle, she said once. Before wrapping her lips around the designated handle and making him come with a growl and a moan.
Before she can make him do that, he tugs at her hair, tangles his fingers in turquise blue and pulls her back up. He doesn't want to come in her mouth, he wants to come inside her after she's shattered above him (or below, he's not picky, though she sometimes is), her body pulsating around him. Her teeth clash with his, but he's too involved with maneuvering her and then thrusting in to care.
She rides him, her breath short, her gasps sharp when his fingers find her. "Matrix--"
He can be smug about the way she breaks, her head flinging back, her nails digging into his skin (and she is careful, even now, not to injure or paralyse him - that would defeat her purposes). She is beautiful, and always has been. But there's something extra about the way she flops onto him when she comes down, something that makes him love her just that little bit more.
And then she smiles that evil smile and tightens herself and then he isn't thinking about being smug.
But she definitely is.
==-=-=-
"So, this is your new best friend."
She can feel him, he's been leaning into her back to adjust her aim, to show the correct buttons and sights. Ellen isn't a stupid woman. She can feel the man at her back, and knows that it would take very little to make him hard.
Ironically, he's already promised to kill her if it comes down to it. But he hasn't promised anything else.
She wonders, as she turns and stares at him, if this is what her relationships have devolved into. Mindless fucks in back alleys and deserted colony buildings on doomed planets. But she kind of feels the need, right now, to have a human connection. An adult one. Her nightmares have told her that all she'll ever have is the aliens.
And Ellen Ripley, who's daughter is dead and buried, wants more. "Do you want me?"
Be direct, her mama always used to say.
Indecision, for a moment. And then. "Yes." All in one quick breath.
"We're going to die, probably." She steps against him. "Let's have one last--"
Their lips meet, and she is suddenly glad she's doing this. Human contact, again. And the taste of a new man. Gun oil and leather and sweat and dirt and the coffee (that really isn't coffee). She's against the wall, hitched upwards while his free hand works its way beneath her shirt.
Quiet, she thinks, as he slides his fingers inside of her, they have to be quiet. Hudson and Vasquez are walking the perimeter. And god knows where Gorman and Burke are. She doesn't care to think about any of them, though.
Because he is dragging one boot off and her pants down enough and opening his own. And then he is right *there*.
Human contact on a new level for her. Technically, it's been 66 years. She tries not to think further as he pounds into her, his mouth on her neck while he tries not to cry out.
Fingers slide down between them, and she's suddenly arching into him, mouth hanging open while she tries not to make a sound as her body convulses. It doesn't take him long to follow, and she feels a commentary on the stamina of the Colonial Marines on the tip of her tongue, but lets it pass when he kisses her gently.
=-=-=-
"Ellen Ripley?"
"Who's asking?"
"Kyle Reese. There's a robot assassin coming to kill you."
A laugh, because she can't do anything else but that. Then her head bends down and she looks at the cigarette slowly going out in her ash tray. The young man across from her is wiry and intense, and very sure of his own words. "Why?"
"The child that you have. John Ripley. He--"
"What child?" She shakes her head, completely certain he's a nut job. As if her life isn't fucked enough without her first grade navigator's license, now she's stuck entertaining weirdos.
"You're..." He shakes his head. "This is real. He's out there, looking for you. He'll kill you."
"Why?"
"John Ripley grows up to lead the resistance against the machines."
"The machines?" Aren't the aliens (imaginary, they keep telling her) and the Company enough of a threat to the future?
"Come with me if you want to live."
She stares at the hand, looks down at the burnt-out cigarette.
Well, it could be better than waking up in nightmares every day for the rest of her life. She takes his hand.
-=-=-=-
Slightly pornier, this time...
Dot/Bob
Han/Leia
Daniel/Sha're (Kym's fault, for using my Daniel icon)
Vader/Fett
Eighth (RepliCarter)/Dark Phoenix
Ripley/Call
AndrAIa/Matrix (which is almost like writing Sam/Jack or Dom/Nate, except that Jack is Nate and Sam is... Daniel)
Ripley/Hicks
Ripley/Kyle Reese
It was weird. He'd spent too long floating in the web, desperate to get back to reality (as real as Mainframe ever was) because of her.
Bob had tried to tell her, but she wouldn't listen. Too busy handing over her own guilt and anguish.
Until it was too much. "Dot."
His voice had echoed in her office, and he suddenly knew what he had to do.
Ever since that kiss at the end of the world (or the beginning, as some were calling it. System Time was strange), he'd been feeling, something.
"Bob."
He was moving before she could stop him, tangling his finger into the small hairs at the base of her skull. "Did I ever tell you how sexy you look in leather?"
"What?"
He took her surprise in stride, and kissed her, gently. "It wasn't your fault."
"Fine." Her arms slid around his waist, and she smirked. "Then it wasn't yours, either."
"Hey, it--"
Her lips silenced him. And then her tongue did more than silence him.
=-0=-=
In five seconds, Leia will tell Han to stop. His lips are kissing their way down her neck, but she will tell him to stop.
Ten seconds after, she determines that another five seconds are required.
His hand is inside her flight pants and his fingers are doing things good little Princesses aren't supposed to know about (much less enjoy, and their are trade alliances hanging in the balance, but she doesn't think of them).
In five seconds, she thinks as his mouth closes on her left breast, sucking hard and causing a whimper to escape, she will tell him to stop.
He is so very damn good with his mouth and hands, and she loses track of the time.
In five seconds, the hazy thought comes when he's buried inside of her and Princess Leia Organa is begging him to go faster in a hoarse voice she barely recognises, she should tell him to stop.
There is a lack of finesse in her responses (and she's always supposed to be in control, 19, and the youngest member of the Imperial Senate, but she isn't in control here), but he doesn't seem to care. Seems to delight in the artless cries and sounds she makes when she shatters.
In five seconds, the thought drifts across her mind as he settles against her, drawing her head onto his shoulder, she will tell him she has to go.
But she really doesn't want to.
=-=-=-=-
In the beginning, there had been awkwardness. Sha're was new to physical relations, and Daniel hadn't pushed. He also knew that his experience wasn't that large. Yes, there had been Sarah. But Sarah was over a year ago, and in the end, their sex had been nothing but bitter recrimination.
When he holds Sha're, when he slides inside of her, he knows this *this* is making love.
She is, quite simply, earthy and real around him. And he likes that, enjoys the soft sounds she makes, the full-throated cries when he hits the correct spot at the right moment.
The others think Daniel might give her a little too much leeway. As a woman, she is not supposed to wear the pants in their relationship.
But Daniel has seen too many women treated as second-class citizens. On digs, in hovels in great cities across the nations of the great world Earth. And so he allows her everything. Because he loves her. She was hesitant, at first. But the confidence that had led him to the caves where the kartoush had resided translated elsewhere.
They fight, sometimes, passionate, blazing rows that might once have scared him.
But they know they will come back to each other, and the making up is always bittersweet and passionate. She mocks him, sometimes, gently.
And Daniel thanks Kasuf every day for giving him the treasure that is his daughter.
He can't imagine life without her.
So he never tries.
=-=-=-=-
It takes perserverence, Fett thinks as he closes his lips around something he can only half see. Perseverence and guile and corruption and a hundred things he rarely has to think about when he's out stalking his prey.
But right now, he's stalking other prey.
The dark lord of the Sith has his hard cock in the mouth of a bounty hunter. He wonders who would pay for this privilege, or if it's merely something that Vader is doing to pass the time.
A grunt from above, in that deep voice that makes the shivers race down the spine.
The underlying menace of power absolute that made him drop to his knees in the first place. That has him sucking off Darth Vader.
In some twisted part of his mind, Boba Fett thinks there might be something wrong, but he's too busy sucking and tasting as Vader thrusts into his mouth to care.
Either that, or he's enjoying this.
It could make a good story to sell.
=-=-=-
I feel the movement in the stars, the air ten trillion lungs breathe in. Breathe out. And burn.
A voice distracts, and I turn, towering in my rage at this supplicant.
She's blonde and lithe, sleek as she watches me. I can feel the edges of her mind, the way it dances and chitters away from the light. "So."
A smile, my eyes traveling over her. "I am fire and life incarnate. Wanna go for a ride, little girl?"
"Can we play pool with planets?" Her tone is derisive, and I wonder how easy it would be to simply rewrite her molecules, tell them that she is made of dust and bone. Flesh and blood and skin that can rend so very easily.
I want to taste her. I want to experience everything she has.
There is no chance for the little replicator. One instant, she is whole and alone, her own being, the next... She is me and I am her, and we are all together. A bad song, but apt. I smile as I skitter through her consciousness, tasting this, pushing that. I find the boundaries of what she is capable of and push them further.
This is life and death.
This is living.
I am the phoenix.
-=-=-=
"I didn't expect this." Her voice echoes back to her, in the room. And she doesn't understand why.
Ripley's eyes are cold and hard and mocking. "Didn't you?"
Didn't you, didn't you...
Echoes, again. She doesn't want echoes.
"To think, to feel, to touch, to taste." No echo, this time.
Pain and pleasure scamper down robotic android nerves that aren't supposed to allow for this sort of thing, and the sensation is almost overwhelming.
Ripley's cry of completion scares her. She doesn't understand how this works. There was knowledge, once, but it's disappeared.
There's a buzzing sound, there. Now, here.
"I didn't expect this."
She whispers into the dark of no one's mind.
Of course she didn't.
=-=-=-
"C'mon, Sparky."
"Stop calling me that."
A brief flash of teeth as she grins at him, and Enzo Matrix is head over heels, yet again. There's a stupid grin near the edge of his lips, and he knows it. She does, too, but doesn't press.
Her hand jostles his elbow. "Why not, lover?"
Uh-oh. He knows this tone of voice. "Because it, uh, irritates me?"
"Wrong answer," she whispers against his ear.
Then she is sliding down his body, taking full advantage of the fact that he (according to her) is much easier to control than she is. He comes with a handle, she said once. Before wrapping her lips around the designated handle and making him come with a growl and a moan.
Before she can make him do that, he tugs at her hair, tangles his fingers in turquise blue and pulls her back up. He doesn't want to come in her mouth, he wants to come inside her after she's shattered above him (or below, he's not picky, though she sometimes is), her body pulsating around him. Her teeth clash with his, but he's too involved with maneuvering her and then thrusting in to care.
She rides him, her breath short, her gasps sharp when his fingers find her. "Matrix--"
He can be smug about the way she breaks, her head flinging back, her nails digging into his skin (and she is careful, even now, not to injure or paralyse him - that would defeat her purposes). She is beautiful, and always has been. But there's something extra about the way she flops onto him when she comes down, something that makes him love her just that little bit more.
And then she smiles that evil smile and tightens herself and then he isn't thinking about being smug.
But she definitely is.
==-=-=-
"So, this is your new best friend."
She can feel him, he's been leaning into her back to adjust her aim, to show the correct buttons and sights. Ellen isn't a stupid woman. She can feel the man at her back, and knows that it would take very little to make him hard.
Ironically, he's already promised to kill her if it comes down to it. But he hasn't promised anything else.
She wonders, as she turns and stares at him, if this is what her relationships have devolved into. Mindless fucks in back alleys and deserted colony buildings on doomed planets. But she kind of feels the need, right now, to have a human connection. An adult one. Her nightmares have told her that all she'll ever have is the aliens.
And Ellen Ripley, who's daughter is dead and buried, wants more. "Do you want me?"
Be direct, her mama always used to say.
Indecision, for a moment. And then. "Yes." All in one quick breath.
"We're going to die, probably." She steps against him. "Let's have one last--"
Their lips meet, and she is suddenly glad she's doing this. Human contact, again. And the taste of a new man. Gun oil and leather and sweat and dirt and the coffee (that really isn't coffee). She's against the wall, hitched upwards while his free hand works its way beneath her shirt.
Quiet, she thinks, as he slides his fingers inside of her, they have to be quiet. Hudson and Vasquez are walking the perimeter. And god knows where Gorman and Burke are. She doesn't care to think about any of them, though.
Because he is dragging one boot off and her pants down enough and opening his own. And then he is right *there*.
Human contact on a new level for her. Technically, it's been 66 years. She tries not to think further as he pounds into her, his mouth on her neck while he tries not to cry out.
Fingers slide down between them, and she's suddenly arching into him, mouth hanging open while she tries not to make a sound as her body convulses. It doesn't take him long to follow, and she feels a commentary on the stamina of the Colonial Marines on the tip of her tongue, but lets it pass when he kisses her gently.
=-=-=-
"Ellen Ripley?"
"Who's asking?"
"Kyle Reese. There's a robot assassin coming to kill you."
A laugh, because she can't do anything else but that. Then her head bends down and she looks at the cigarette slowly going out in her ash tray. The young man across from her is wiry and intense, and very sure of his own words. "Why?"
"The child that you have. John Ripley. He--"
"What child?" She shakes her head, completely certain he's a nut job. As if her life isn't fucked enough without her first grade navigator's license, now she's stuck entertaining weirdos.
"You're..." He shakes his head. "This is real. He's out there, looking for you. He'll kill you."
"Why?"
"John Ripley grows up to lead the resistance against the machines."
"The machines?" Aren't the aliens (imaginary, they keep telling her) and the Company enough of a threat to the future?
"Come with me if you want to live."
She stares at the hand, looks down at the burnt-out cigarette.
Well, it could be better than waking up in nightmares every day for the rest of her life. She takes his hand.
-=-=-=-