shiegra (shiegra) wrote in no_true_pair, @ 2009-06-10 12:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 2009 kinks challenge, author: shiegra, fandom: original [smoke and mirrors], pairing: aleksander/nikephoros |
Original, "Smoke and Mirrors"
Title: Smoke and Mirrors
Author/Artist: shiegra
Fandom: Original
Pairing/characters: Nikephoros/Aleksander
Rating: NC17
Warnings: explicit heterosexual hatesex
Prompt/challenge you're answering: Nikephoros and Aleksander: aphrodisiacs/pollen/aliens made them do it
Summary: "I slit the throat of the last man I was trapped here with," I said, and realized too late that was practically a come-on to Aleksander.
It stung. My skin crawled with it. The smoke was heavy, enveiling, a deceptive shroud; even the vicious blare of Aleksander's red hair was muted, a stream of heavy crimson spilling over his shoulderblades. It was very bright against the black of his shirt.
He turned too fast, fingers crushing my hand. "What the fuck are you doing?"
I'd reached out to him. I'd reached out to him. Shock and fear washed over me in a scalding rage and I jerked my hand free. He held on a second too long--too short to start a fight, but long enough for me to waver between suspecting him of taunting me and noticing his slowly dilating pupils--but my hand came free.
Sunlight was fading, turning red through the high barred windows, and I couldn't see a door. He turned to look as I did and I backed up a step, putting space between us. The pale strong line of his throat was damp with sweat. I knew he would be warm, and the air was chilled
The urge was alien, and stupid, and still swam in my head. My body felt too slow, pulse trembling-quick, mouth drying.
"Temples and their fucking tricks." He sounded almost bored. I put the wall to my back, feeling my fingers itch; a slow, heavy feeling was creeping up my body, heavy between my legs with heat. It had to be ambient magic; I couldn't picture any of the Aphrodites I'd known pulling this, and if Aphrodisia was here, she sure as hell wouldn't allow it.
I blinked and he was too close for comfort. His grin was a threat, lazy and sure of himself. "Feel like--" he said, and then laughed, a casual animal's snarl. "Who am I kidding. Of course you feel like it. Can't help it, here." Rage was banked below that, a caged animal. I couldn't think of anyone being forced to act against his will would piss off more.
"You didn't bring me here on purpose," I said, iron with the certainty. Even if he'd known it was here, he wouldn't have brought me here on purpose. Left on his own, Aleksander teetered between sex and violence, the desires almost interchangeable in his worst moods. But his loyalty to Ares superseded it.
But it would have been really fucking nice to have someone to blame.
We both moved at once.
There was a mess of adrenaline, and motion. Aleksander was too fucking good for me to disable on the spot, and I couldn't kill him. Couldn't allow it to go that far. The giddy rush of action slicked the top of my mouth, sweet with violence, and I hit him in the ribs with everything I had, knee in his groin and heels hooked behind his. My elbow cracked off the ground, I arched my body like a bow gathering tension and kicked out, taking him in the chest. Then we were both on our feet again--neither of us had gone for our knives, maybe I was as essential to his plan as he was to mine--and riding the violence like a wave.
I kicked him in the face, and a blur of motion later he was dragging me close enough to kiss, my wrist flaring with pain at his grip, blood streaking down his chin. He was hard against my thigh, with one leg between mine. My hips rocked, involuntary, against the hard line of his thigh; I wanted the blood on his skin, fought to clear my head. Nike had been a battleground goddess more than anything else, and her power roiled through my veins.
"I slit the throat of the last man I was trapped here with," I panted, and realized too late that was practically a come-on to Aleksander.
His teeth showed, the upper row and most prominent canines white against his bloodied lips. "Did he even get to fuck you first?" The question was absurdly casual. He didn't even sound out of breath. He ground himself against me. I remembered the casual obscenity he could imbue a simple sentence with, felt it now like a drug in each explicit movement, and I licked my lips.
"No," I said, too soft.
It was either a threat of an invitation. It would have given most people pause to figure out which, but either one would have had the same effect of Aleksander. He kissed me, and the taste of his blood was coppery and plain and still went to my head like moonshine.
"Fuck," I moaned around his tongue, and he laughed and only stopped when I sank fingernails into his thigh and cupped his groin with the other hand, fingers sinking into denim.
When he shoved his hand under my waistband--no finesse at all--and buried his fingers in me, his mouth twisted like it was a conquest to find me slick and swollen, snarling as I bucked against his hand. Like it meant a goddamn thing. Asshole, I thought blindly, but he slid another finger inside, palm twisting, and I whimpered instead of articulating it, hips pushing up.
When he tore himself free I gasped for air, grateful for the respite, but not even the snick of his switchblade fully jarred me from my haze. He traced the blade down my thigh, watching my face for a reaction--a flush burned on his cheekbones and his pupils were blown wide open, but he was almost expressionless--but I only popped the button on his jeans and curled my fingers around him, making him hiss as his head fell back.
I liked these jeans. I had no intention of walking out of this place without them. While he was distracted I unbuttoned them one handed and shimmied them halfway down my thighs before I realized he was watching me again.
He tapped the switchblade against the corner of my mouth, hands held mockingly away from my body.
"Are you going to posture all day or fuck me?" I asked, sliding my own hand free.
He kicked my feet out from under me and I was startled enough to swear as I fell, kicking against my tangling jeans, my sneakers come free easily. I was wearing black lace panties, and he went still, mouth curling in something too darkly amused--too hot--to be a sneer, but not friendly enough to actually be a smile. It showed too many goddamn teeth, that was for sure.
Then he was dragging my thighs apart, and down between them, and I was too stunned to actually react.
He licked me through the lace once, twice, and then he impatiently dragged the fabric aside and plunged inside me, mouth pressed against slick flesh, teeth sharp and close. He would enjoy the power of it. His fingers were bruising my hips, holding me down for his exploration, and I wanted my teeth in his throat with fierce intensity. Either he was just playing or he was making sure I wanted it so bad I didn't kill him in the middle of it. I writhed, heel digging into his shoulder blade, and wanted to scream, swallowed the sound of my own voice. "You--fucking--oh god."
He looked up, mouth gleaming, frighteningly composed for all his flush and gasping breaths and obvious arousal. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"
"Shut up," I said, dragging at his shoulders. "Shut the--ah--it would be goddess," I added as he slid up my body, out of breath. I wondered if what he'd done was enough like worship to cause the gold rush in my veins, or if that was only desire. My teeth sank into his lip.
He drove inside me, my hips arching off the floor, knees spread. I drew blood on his lip again, bucked against him violently, driven deeper inside. He'd react well to it. A thought flashed through my mind--tied down, above him, fucking him at my own pace as his eyes turned black with rage--and was gone. His hips drove into mine, the long angles of his body hard against my own muscle. I grabbed for purchase, found the edge of a statue's pedestal. Aleksander grabbed my hand and dragged it down, pushing me along the smooth-polished floor. My skull nearly cracked off the ground.
"I could kill you for this," I whispered against his ear, voice shaking. He hauled my thighs wider and drove deeper, on the edge of pain, both of us slick with sweat and fluids. He hadn't even taken off my underwear. It would be ruined. Power built under my skin in a humming rush and he slowed, sliding thick and wet in and out, slower and crueler. I realized he could feel the magic humming inside me like a tight coil, ready to be unleashed.
He couldn't feed on it, but he'd like the way it felt. That knife edge of pain and pleasure was just to his taste.
His hand fisted in my hair. I tasted his blood, licked it off my lips, and saw him smile before climax rolled me under.