Ficlet: Right as Rain (Dark Angel, PG)
Title: Right as Rain
Author: twasadark
Fandom: Dark Angel
Pairing: Max/Alec
Rating: PG
Words: 650
Prompt: Racing in the Rain, Max/Alec over at comment_fic
Laughing. Running. Cold rain spewing down from above, angry and hard, made light and easy by their moods.
He’s running ahead, down the shadowed alleyway, lit intermittently by the warm glow of streetlights. His thighs are pumping, strong and muscled, pants drawn tight over the curves and valleys of his flesh and she’s not noticing that, she’s not. She’s just running like her life depends on it, arms pistoning through the air, core tight and unyielding even as a grin freezes on her face. He casts a look over his shoulder - flash of teeth and glint of eye and then they speed over the white parking lot line that marks the end of their impromptu racetrack and he’s won. He’s won, dammit.
Still, she can’t be too angry because he’s turning around, smirk on his curving, luscious lips, saying, “Beat ya, Maxie. Now you gotta give me one thing I want.”
“I don’t gotta do nothing, Pretty Boy,” she says, jutting her chin out and waggling her head side to side, but not in anger, no, just matter of fact because this is Alec and this is how she is with him.
“You afraid to give me what I want?” He needles her, then laughs at her offended expression. “Then, come here,” he dares and his voice is smooth, like the fenders of her bike smooth, slick and seamless and easy, so easy that she just stalks up to him, breathing hard from their race, breath making clouds of steam in the air.
He’s breathing hard, too, eyes alight with some deep burning fire, some irrepressible mischievousness that takes all her sarcasm and tosses it aside, lets it slide off of him like water on just-waxed paint.
She gets all up in his space, knocks him with her shoulder, expects him to move back, to yield to her like he always does, but he surprises her. He steps into her path and just looks at her and he’s not laughing any more, no, not even smiling. His eyes are dark and his lips are tight and he says in a hoarse and strained voice, “Max. Oh, Max.” And then he’s leaning forward and his lips are pressing against hers, and fireworks are exploding in her mind. Shock and pleasure and the slow syrupy warmth of desire, unexpected and amazing.
She should fight him, push him away and retreat into anger. How dare he spoil her romance with Logan? How dare he blunder his way into her life, mess it all up with his smirking and laughing and breathing -
She can’t work up the rage for that though because she’s melting into him, just sagging like her spine has been liquefied, and it’s good. It’s so good. His tongue is slipping tentatively into her mouth, dipping inside and letting her know that he wants her. Her fingers are gripping his jacket, feeling the moisture of the rain and the warmth of his skin radiating from inside, and his arms are folded around her waist, pressing their bodies so close together.
He pulls back a little, just looks at her with something like worship on his face, and says again, “Max.”
Her heart is thundering in her chest. Her face is flushing, her skin burning like lighter fluid has been ignited on it. She can’t look away from him though, doesn’t even want to, and when he says her name again the wrecked way he sounds is the sweetest aphrodisiac she can ever imagine.
She kisses him this time and the world freezes just like that, firefly in amber. And now, when they break apart for air, it’s his name that’s on her lips, and she realizes he’s won again, more than the race this time, more than the prize of this kiss. Somehow, when she wasn’t looking, when she was busy being unbearably irritated by him, he’s managed to win her heart.
Author: twasadark
Fandom: Dark Angel
Pairing: Max/Alec
Rating: PG
Words: 650
Prompt: Racing in the Rain, Max/Alec over at comment_fic
Laughing. Running. Cold rain spewing down from above, angry and hard, made light and easy by their moods.
He’s running ahead, down the shadowed alleyway, lit intermittently by the warm glow of streetlights. His thighs are pumping, strong and muscled, pants drawn tight over the curves and valleys of his flesh and she’s not noticing that, she’s not. She’s just running like her life depends on it, arms pistoning through the air, core tight and unyielding even as a grin freezes on her face. He casts a look over his shoulder - flash of teeth and glint of eye and then they speed over the white parking lot line that marks the end of their impromptu racetrack and he’s won. He’s won, dammit.
Still, she can’t be too angry because he’s turning around, smirk on his curving, luscious lips, saying, “Beat ya, Maxie. Now you gotta give me one thing I want.”
“I don’t gotta do nothing, Pretty Boy,” she says, jutting her chin out and waggling her head side to side, but not in anger, no, just matter of fact because this is Alec and this is how she is with him.
“You afraid to give me what I want?” He needles her, then laughs at her offended expression. “Then, come here,” he dares and his voice is smooth, like the fenders of her bike smooth, slick and seamless and easy, so easy that she just stalks up to him, breathing hard from their race, breath making clouds of steam in the air.
He’s breathing hard, too, eyes alight with some deep burning fire, some irrepressible mischievousness that takes all her sarcasm and tosses it aside, lets it slide off of him like water on just-waxed paint.
She gets all up in his space, knocks him with her shoulder, expects him to move back, to yield to her like he always does, but he surprises her. He steps into her path and just looks at her and he’s not laughing any more, no, not even smiling. His eyes are dark and his lips are tight and he says in a hoarse and strained voice, “Max. Oh, Max.” And then he’s leaning forward and his lips are pressing against hers, and fireworks are exploding in her mind. Shock and pleasure and the slow syrupy warmth of desire, unexpected and amazing.
She should fight him, push him away and retreat into anger. How dare he spoil her romance with Logan? How dare he blunder his way into her life, mess it all up with his smirking and laughing and breathing -
She can’t work up the rage for that though because she’s melting into him, just sagging like her spine has been liquefied, and it’s good. It’s so good. His tongue is slipping tentatively into her mouth, dipping inside and letting her know that he wants her. Her fingers are gripping his jacket, feeling the moisture of the rain and the warmth of his skin radiating from inside, and his arms are folded around her waist, pressing their bodies so close together.
He pulls back a little, just looks at her with something like worship on his face, and says again, “Max.”
Her heart is thundering in her chest. Her face is flushing, her skin burning like lighter fluid has been ignited on it. She can’t look away from him though, doesn’t even want to, and when he says her name again the wrecked way he sounds is the sweetest aphrodisiac she can ever imagine.
She kisses him this time and the world freezes just like that, firefly in amber. And now, when they break apart for air, it’s his name that’s on her lips, and she realizes he’s won again, more than the race this time, more than the prize of this kiss. Somehow, when she wasn’t looking, when she was busy being unbearably irritated by him, he’s managed to win her heart.