Fic: There's got to be a morning after Epilogue: Where no man has gone before
There's got to be a morning after
Epilogue: Where no man has gone before
Master post
Wordcount: 1,900
There's a clanging throughout the entire prison as the inmates begin shouting, banging against their barred doors. There's also jeering and catcalls, which means fresh meat has arrived--and attractive meat at that.
Eames stands up, wondering if today's the day he receives a new cellmate. The previous one dropped dead of mysterious causes that couldn't be directly linked to him, and he's been enjoying the relative peace and extra space. Nothing like a dirty human to clutter up the place with stink and incessant whining about the supposed injustice of their imprisonment.
Eames leans against his cell door, craning his head to catch a glimpse of the prisoner. He hopes for a Klingon or Cardassian but the odds aren't in his favor; humans breed like Tribbles and seem determined to infest all corners of the unwilling galaxy.
Perhaps not all are as repulsive as his previous cellmate. He has heard that a few can smell rather pleasing, in fact, though he has never experienced one himself.
Eames changes his form into that of a human he once saw in a holo: female, dark skin, sharp features, and yellow eyes. He has heard other humans compliment this form as 'beautiful' though he has no particular opinion on the matter. Such a persona will be useful for lowering defenses and creating common bonds-that is all.
The new prisoner-male, dark hair, lean bodied-marches into the cell. Eames stands aside as the prisoner enters, carrying a pillow, a blanket, and a change of clothing. The door slides shut, and the scent of him fills the cell. It's not an entirely unpleasant one, nor is it unfamiliar.
"Would you care for the top or bottom bunk?" Eames asks, pitching his voice low and sultry while the prisoner pauses to take the cell interior in. "I can do either."
The prisoner's gaze swings to Eames and fixes, lips parting slightly while his pupils dilate. Really, humans are too easy. "I'd-I'd like the bottom bunk, I think."
"Very well. Allow me to gather my things." Eames saunters over to the bunk and bends over, taking an excessively long time to gather his meager possessions. He can feel the gaze on his rear end. "My name is Martia."
"Martia," the prisoner repeats. "My name is Arthur."
"Hello, Arthur," Eames says, lowering his lashes as he glances over. "You came at a rather convenient moment. In two minutes, it'll be lights out for the next nine hours."
"We'll be locked in?"
"Yes." Eames climbs halfway up the ladder and stretches languorously as he deposits his things onto the bunk. "I hope they fed you before they threw you in here."
"I think I'll manage," Arthur says, not taking his eyes off Eames. "What's your story... Martia?"
"I'm afraid I was rather naughty." Eames glances over his shoulder at Arthur. "I did some things I shouldn't have."
Arthur's lips quirk. "I think that could be said about everyone in this place."
"Perhaps." Eames slides down the ladder. "What did you do?"
Arthur shrugs. "Caused a diplomatic incident."
"That doesn't sound so bad." Eames cocks his head to one side. "Is that all?"
"I may have started an intergalactic war in the process."
"My my, causing quite a stir." Eames approaches Arthur and runs a single finger down his arm. "I wonder, though: will I be safe in here with you?"
Arthur catches Eames' wrist and yanks him close, chests flush against each other. "I think I should be the one asking that question. Since I'm apparently sharing a cell with a shapeshifter."
Eames studies Arthur's face, a newfound respect for the human. Maybe he's not as dull-witted as the rest of his brethren. "A shapeshifter? Goodness."
"I know what you are. Now drop the act and show me your real form."
Eames brings his free hand up to stroke Arthur's cheek. "Oh, but this form is very agreeable, wouldn't you say?"
Arthur shoves Eames backwards onto the bunk, pinning his wrists to the thin mattress. "Why are you doing this?"
Eames spreads his legs and slides them up Arthur's thighs. "I should think it'd be obvious."
Arthur shoves a hand underneath Eames' robe and fingers where Eames is already damp. "This is what you want?"
Eames slices Arthur's uniform open with a swipe of his nails, revealing the tender, vulnerable skin underneath. Arthur's cock presses hard against his thigh already. "I think it's what we both want."
Arthur barely hitches the edge of Eames' robe up before he shoves in with his dick, forcing the breath from Eames' body. He folds Eames' human body in half as he thrusts, wild and only semi-rhythmic as Eames scrabbles at Arthur's back.
Eames keens as Arthur fucks the first orgasm out of him, reaching one hand under his robe to squeeze a breast, hard. The robe gets pushed up around Eames' neck and Arthur curves forward to bite at a nipple while his cock continues to hammer inside.
Eames can't see anything over the robe pooled around his neck, can barely move with the way Arthur is pinning him down. He can, however, smell human all around him-wild, relentless, hot. No matter how many different forms Eames takes, the scent of Arthur will cling for weeks. The thought soaks the inside of his thighs.
"Show me," Arthur says. "I want to see who I'm really fucking."
"Reality may not be as docile as fantasy," Eames warns, nails digging deeper into Arthur's back.
"I don't care," Arthur says, reckless and fearless and foolish. "I want to see."
Eames shrugs and lifts Arthur off him, Arthur's eyes widening at the apparent lack of effort. Eames swats him lazily back onto the bunk as his body changes from a slight female form to something humans have described as monstrously huge-hair and muscles rippling across his body. The robe he was wearing splits open and falls away.
Arthur's panting, cock leaking against his thigh. "You're--"
"Enough talk, human," Eames says, voice rumbling several octaves lower. He flips Arthur onto his stomach and drags his legs backward, barely pausing to spit onto Arthur's hole before shoving the head of his cock in. Arthur shouts at the contact, body shocked into stillness. Eames grabs Arthur by the back of his neck and begins to thrust.
"Oh," Arthur moans. His back, bloodied from Martia's long nails and deep scratches, arches. "Fuck, that's-you're-"
"What did I say about talk?" Eames brings one forearm around warningly across Arthur's throat, but it doesn't stop the litany of groans and curses and begging. Arthur comes, twice, fingers clawing at the sheets, heedless of how the entire prison can hear his cries.
Eames pulls out and spills across Arthur's backside, surprised when Arthur rolls over and curls forward, eager to catch the last drops with his mouth. Eames allows him to bathe the cock with his tongue and suckle it, leisurely.
When Eames feels the stirrings of arousal again, he puts both hands on the back of Arthur's head and pushes him down, hard. Arthur moans at the treatment, his hands finding his own cock and jerking.
Eames sets a brutal pace that Arthur can barely breathe through, mouth growing slacker and wetter as it goes on.
Eames says, "Who would have thought that I'd have a Federation captain choking on my cock?" At Arthur's wide eyes, Eames chuckles. "Yes, I know who you are, Captain Arthur of the Starship Enterprise."
Arthur begins to struggle, and Eames pulls him off with a hand on his throat. "You can't hope to fight me."
"I can bite." Arthur raises his chin defiantly.
"A pity, considering how much you were enjoying my cock in your mouth," Eames says with a pointed glance down to where Arthur's still rock hard. "I suppose I'll have to come inside you somewhere else."
Arthur resists but it's no use, his arms and legs flailing uselessly against the muscular bulk of Eames' body. Eames holds Arthur's legs open and sinks in contentedly. Not as wet as Arthur's mouth, but tighter and just as warm.
Arthur yowls and protests even as his body betrays him, ejaculate spurting across his chest and chin. Eames pays him no mind, taking his pleasure inside Arthur and sighing as he comes a final time.
"God, baby," Arthur murmurs, voice returning his normal register as Eames sags against him. "That was amazing."
Eames allows his forgery to slip away, crawling exhaustedly into Arthur's waiting arms. "Everything up to spec? I couldn't remember if you wanted me to force you to drink my come or not."
"Doesn't matter." Arthur drops kisses all over Eames' face. "You played Martia perfectly."
Eames hums in response. "Was fun. Easier than I expected to forge an alien."
"That's because you're incredible." Arthur brings Eames' hand up to his lips
Eames cuddles closer. "Mm, yes, I do enjoy compliments. More, please."
"You're gorgeous." Kiss. "You're brilliant." Another kiss. "You're the best forger in the business and I'm lucky to have you around for recreational purposes."
Eames preens. "You are, aren't you?"
"Listen," Arthur says, abruptly serious. "Don't shoot yourself. I have something to tell you."
"Why would I-"
"I love you," Arthur says in a rush. "There, I said it. Out loud. To you."
Eames blinks up at Arthur. This is not what he was expecting to hear at the end of an aggressive Star Trek role-playing scenario. "You-"
"I wanted to say it before. Because I've. Felt it for a while."
Eames traces the determined little frown on Arthur's face, considers what it took for him to utter those three words. "Darling."
"I'm not saying it again. This is a one time-utterance."
Eames suppresses a smile. "Acceptable."
"Good." Arthur's voice is still gruff, but he seems to relax, marginally.
Eames splays his fingers over Arthur's chest, feels the heartbeat beneath his palm. "Did you really believe I was going to shoot myself out of the dream?"
"Maybe. I don't know. It's what I would do."
"Then I shouldn't say it back?"
"What would be the point? I already know you do." Arthur stares down at the thin, scratchy sheets they're lying on and changes them with a small motion to satin. Arthur doesn't care for satin sheets-prefers Egyptian cotton of an absurdly high thread count. Eames is the one who not-so-secretly adores satin sheets. "Anyway, thanks. For playing out this whole fantasy with me."
"Seems only fair, considering everything you've been willing to try with me." Eames sidles closer to Arthur, nuzzles his silver hair and feels excruciatingly happy. "You know, I asked three people before you to assist me with my list. It's a good job they all turned me down flat."
"Fourth in line, huh? Now I feel special," Arthur says dryly, unable to conceal the smile that creases his eyes and dimples his cheeks.
"Do you want to take a tour through the prison? I populated it with a variety of lecherous aliens," Eames says, thinking back on the countless hours spent reading tedious Wikipedia articles about Star Trek. "One has a number of extremely flexible tentacles."
"Tempting, but I'd like to stay here a while." Arthur wraps an arm round Eames' waist and tucks him close, breaths evening out while the air around them settles into something quiet. Peaceful.
fin
Poll Fic: There's got to be a morning after - Epilogue
Epilogue: Where no man has gone before
Master post
Wordcount: 1,900
There's a clanging throughout the entire prison as the inmates begin shouting, banging against their barred doors. There's also jeering and catcalls, which means fresh meat has arrived--and attractive meat at that.
Eames stands up, wondering if today's the day he receives a new cellmate. The previous one dropped dead of mysterious causes that couldn't be directly linked to him, and he's been enjoying the relative peace and extra space. Nothing like a dirty human to clutter up the place with stink and incessant whining about the supposed injustice of their imprisonment.
Eames leans against his cell door, craning his head to catch a glimpse of the prisoner. He hopes for a Klingon or Cardassian but the odds aren't in his favor; humans breed like Tribbles and seem determined to infest all corners of the unwilling galaxy.
Perhaps not all are as repulsive as his previous cellmate. He has heard that a few can smell rather pleasing, in fact, though he has never experienced one himself.
Eames changes his form into that of a human he once saw in a holo: female, dark skin, sharp features, and yellow eyes. He has heard other humans compliment this form as 'beautiful' though he has no particular opinion on the matter. Such a persona will be useful for lowering defenses and creating common bonds-that is all.
The new prisoner-male, dark hair, lean bodied-marches into the cell. Eames stands aside as the prisoner enters, carrying a pillow, a blanket, and a change of clothing. The door slides shut, and the scent of him fills the cell. It's not an entirely unpleasant one, nor is it unfamiliar.
"Would you care for the top or bottom bunk?" Eames asks, pitching his voice low and sultry while the prisoner pauses to take the cell interior in. "I can do either."
The prisoner's gaze swings to Eames and fixes, lips parting slightly while his pupils dilate. Really, humans are too easy. "I'd-I'd like the bottom bunk, I think."
"Very well. Allow me to gather my things." Eames saunters over to the bunk and bends over, taking an excessively long time to gather his meager possessions. He can feel the gaze on his rear end. "My name is Martia."
"Martia," the prisoner repeats. "My name is Arthur."
"Hello, Arthur," Eames says, lowering his lashes as he glances over. "You came at a rather convenient moment. In two minutes, it'll be lights out for the next nine hours."
"We'll be locked in?"
"Yes." Eames climbs halfway up the ladder and stretches languorously as he deposits his things onto the bunk. "I hope they fed you before they threw you in here."
"I think I'll manage," Arthur says, not taking his eyes off Eames. "What's your story... Martia?"
"I'm afraid I was rather naughty." Eames glances over his shoulder at Arthur. "I did some things I shouldn't have."
Arthur's lips quirk. "I think that could be said about everyone in this place."
"Perhaps." Eames slides down the ladder. "What did you do?"
Arthur shrugs. "Caused a diplomatic incident."
"That doesn't sound so bad." Eames cocks his head to one side. "Is that all?"
"I may have started an intergalactic war in the process."
"My my, causing quite a stir." Eames approaches Arthur and runs a single finger down his arm. "I wonder, though: will I be safe in here with you?"
Arthur catches Eames' wrist and yanks him close, chests flush against each other. "I think I should be the one asking that question. Since I'm apparently sharing a cell with a shapeshifter."
Eames studies Arthur's face, a newfound respect for the human. Maybe he's not as dull-witted as the rest of his brethren. "A shapeshifter? Goodness."
"I know what you are. Now drop the act and show me your real form."
Eames brings his free hand up to stroke Arthur's cheek. "Oh, but this form is very agreeable, wouldn't you say?"
Arthur shoves Eames backwards onto the bunk, pinning his wrists to the thin mattress. "Why are you doing this?"
Eames spreads his legs and slides them up Arthur's thighs. "I should think it'd be obvious."
Arthur shoves a hand underneath Eames' robe and fingers where Eames is already damp. "This is what you want?"
Eames slices Arthur's uniform open with a swipe of his nails, revealing the tender, vulnerable skin underneath. Arthur's cock presses hard against his thigh already. "I think it's what we both want."
Arthur barely hitches the edge of Eames' robe up before he shoves in with his dick, forcing the breath from Eames' body. He folds Eames' human body in half as he thrusts, wild and only semi-rhythmic as Eames scrabbles at Arthur's back.
Eames keens as Arthur fucks the first orgasm out of him, reaching one hand under his robe to squeeze a breast, hard. The robe gets pushed up around Eames' neck and Arthur curves forward to bite at a nipple while his cock continues to hammer inside.
Eames can't see anything over the robe pooled around his neck, can barely move with the way Arthur is pinning him down. He can, however, smell human all around him-wild, relentless, hot. No matter how many different forms Eames takes, the scent of Arthur will cling for weeks. The thought soaks the inside of his thighs.
"Show me," Arthur says. "I want to see who I'm really fucking."
"Reality may not be as docile as fantasy," Eames warns, nails digging deeper into Arthur's back.
"I don't care," Arthur says, reckless and fearless and foolish. "I want to see."
Eames shrugs and lifts Arthur off him, Arthur's eyes widening at the apparent lack of effort. Eames swats him lazily back onto the bunk as his body changes from a slight female form to something humans have described as monstrously huge-hair and muscles rippling across his body. The robe he was wearing splits open and falls away.
Arthur's panting, cock leaking against his thigh. "You're--"
"Enough talk, human," Eames says, voice rumbling several octaves lower. He flips Arthur onto his stomach and drags his legs backward, barely pausing to spit onto Arthur's hole before shoving the head of his cock in. Arthur shouts at the contact, body shocked into stillness. Eames grabs Arthur by the back of his neck and begins to thrust.
"Oh," Arthur moans. His back, bloodied from Martia's long nails and deep scratches, arches. "Fuck, that's-you're-"
"What did I say about talk?" Eames brings one forearm around warningly across Arthur's throat, but it doesn't stop the litany of groans and curses and begging. Arthur comes, twice, fingers clawing at the sheets, heedless of how the entire prison can hear his cries.
Eames pulls out and spills across Arthur's backside, surprised when Arthur rolls over and curls forward, eager to catch the last drops with his mouth. Eames allows him to bathe the cock with his tongue and suckle it, leisurely.
When Eames feels the stirrings of arousal again, he puts both hands on the back of Arthur's head and pushes him down, hard. Arthur moans at the treatment, his hands finding his own cock and jerking.
Eames sets a brutal pace that Arthur can barely breathe through, mouth growing slacker and wetter as it goes on.
Eames says, "Who would have thought that I'd have a Federation captain choking on my cock?" At Arthur's wide eyes, Eames chuckles. "Yes, I know who you are, Captain Arthur of the Starship Enterprise."
Arthur begins to struggle, and Eames pulls him off with a hand on his throat. "You can't hope to fight me."
"I can bite." Arthur raises his chin defiantly.
"A pity, considering how much you were enjoying my cock in your mouth," Eames says with a pointed glance down to where Arthur's still rock hard. "I suppose I'll have to come inside you somewhere else."
Arthur resists but it's no use, his arms and legs flailing uselessly against the muscular bulk of Eames' body. Eames holds Arthur's legs open and sinks in contentedly. Not as wet as Arthur's mouth, but tighter and just as warm.
Arthur yowls and protests even as his body betrays him, ejaculate spurting across his chest and chin. Eames pays him no mind, taking his pleasure inside Arthur and sighing as he comes a final time.
"God, baby," Arthur murmurs, voice returning his normal register as Eames sags against him. "That was amazing."
Eames allows his forgery to slip away, crawling exhaustedly into Arthur's waiting arms. "Everything up to spec? I couldn't remember if you wanted me to force you to drink my come or not."
"Doesn't matter." Arthur drops kisses all over Eames' face. "You played Martia perfectly."
Eames hums in response. "Was fun. Easier than I expected to forge an alien."
"That's because you're incredible." Arthur brings Eames' hand up to his lips
Eames cuddles closer. "Mm, yes, I do enjoy compliments. More, please."
"You're gorgeous." Kiss. "You're brilliant." Another kiss. "You're the best forger in the business and I'm lucky to have you around for recreational purposes."
Eames preens. "You are, aren't you?"
"Listen," Arthur says, abruptly serious. "Don't shoot yourself. I have something to tell you."
"Why would I-"
"I love you," Arthur says in a rush. "There, I said it. Out loud. To you."
Eames blinks up at Arthur. This is not what he was expecting to hear at the end of an aggressive Star Trek role-playing scenario. "You-"
"I wanted to say it before. Because I've. Felt it for a while."
Eames traces the determined little frown on Arthur's face, considers what it took for him to utter those three words. "Darling."
"I'm not saying it again. This is a one time-utterance."
Eames suppresses a smile. "Acceptable."
"Good." Arthur's voice is still gruff, but he seems to relax, marginally.
Eames splays his fingers over Arthur's chest, feels the heartbeat beneath his palm. "Did you really believe I was going to shoot myself out of the dream?"
"Maybe. I don't know. It's what I would do."
"Then I shouldn't say it back?"
"What would be the point? I already know you do." Arthur stares down at the thin, scratchy sheets they're lying on and changes them with a small motion to satin. Arthur doesn't care for satin sheets-prefers Egyptian cotton of an absurdly high thread count. Eames is the one who not-so-secretly adores satin sheets. "Anyway, thanks. For playing out this whole fantasy with me."
"Seems only fair, considering everything you've been willing to try with me." Eames sidles closer to Arthur, nuzzles his silver hair and feels excruciatingly happy. "You know, I asked three people before you to assist me with my list. It's a good job they all turned me down flat."
"Fourth in line, huh? Now I feel special," Arthur says dryly, unable to conceal the smile that creases his eyes and dimples his cheeks.
"Do you want to take a tour through the prison? I populated it with a variety of lecherous aliens," Eames says, thinking back on the countless hours spent reading tedious Wikipedia articles about Star Trek. "One has a number of extremely flexible tentacles."
"Tempting, but I'd like to stay here a while." Arthur wraps an arm round Eames' waist and tucks him close, breaths evening out while the air around them settles into something quiet. Peaceful.
fin
Poll Fic: There's got to be a morning after - Epilogue