#today i am going to be abnormal about reapers. i Will get to play with them maybe. eventually when i delve into my control ending au. yummy

[shepcdr]

there is something so so so sexy about the reapers. beings that exist to extinguish organic life, but only towards a certain purpose. beings that exist beyond the scope of your comprehension, created by the unfathomable apex predators of the galaxy (predators that could topple any empire and rule over entire civilisations with a single thought!! on a little whim!!). the apex predators, their own creators, that they vanquished and pushed into near-extinction, all for the purpose for which they were created. beings that technically exist to fulfil that purpose and, guided by an artificial intelligence whose entire existence has structured itself around the unending experiment of organic-synthetic cohabitation, still inherited the smugness and pride of their creators. beings that span thousands and thousands of cycles, infinite beginnings and ends, who store the genetic memories of hundreds and thousands of civilisations from their incarnation to their deaths at the reapers' hands(? tentacle.. claw... thingies?). who have never known what it is to have their existence threatened. shit-talking a human being that is nothing more than a microbe to them. because they can.

anyway a while ago i made them a pinterest board (to be avoided if you have trypophobia, or fear of clusters/swarms of eyes, or of art that mimics imagery of blood/gore) because i love them. my terrible biblical, cephalopodic, organic-made children of the galaxy

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: Marked by an Angel PART 1 Collab with @samros95​

Pairing: sub! Angel! Yoongi x Dom! Demon! Noona! reader ft. Demon! Jimin ft. Demon! Jin ft. Angel! Hoseok

Warnings: smut, angst, spit play, blood drinking, hand job (m) receiving, blow job (m) receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks)

Rating: 18 and over

Tag List (perm): @mochilicious-yoongi​ @heyimtavia

Y/N:

It was unusual for him to call you like this, out of the blue, during the day. You had scheduled nights to see each other and right now it was neither night nor one of your usual evenings. Normally you would turn him down, but he sounded so desperate on the phone, you just couldn’t say no. Here you were, dressed in your signature all black, huge black sunglasses to keep the sun at bay as you made your way through the streets of Purgatory. Min Yoongi wasn’t a normal Angel, he was a general for their leader, Kim Namjoon. Which means you needed to make your way into Heaven, not as abnormal as it sounds. Demon and Angels crossed the barrier lines often, many fornicating, many just to fuck around with “friends” or just to fuck around with rivals. You hated that Yoongi lived among the hierarchy especially when he claimed to hate it and his position but who were you to judge. You yourself were the highest-level assassin and gifted Soul Reaper for Kim Seokjin, a position you have grown to despise as well.

You head in the direction of the great staircase, smirking when you lock eyes with one of the gatekeepers. You give a small nod and walk past, knowing you’d die before showing your ID to get through the pearly gates. Instead, you head past the entrance and off towards the River Styx. “Ferryman.” You greet the decrepit caped man seated on his Ferry. “Demon.” He greets back. “I need backdoor access into Heaven.” He looks up at you with his cloudy eyes and grimaces. “I need a taste.” You wince at his request. “A drop.” “A gulp!” You swallow hard but nod. ‘Fucking Min Yoongi.’ You thought to yourself, noting to punish him later. You move towards the ferryman and tug up your sleeve, using your sharpest nail to carve a line in your wrist. His eyes widen as he catapults forward to slurp on your flowing vein. You groan in disgust at his moans. Demons and Angels blood sold for thousands on the black market for their healing properties. In large doses, their affects could last days or weeks but in small ones only hours. “That’s enough!” You shout, shoving him onto his back, licking your wound close. He drops happily, licking his lips and panting. “Thank Namjoon.” He moans. You roll your eyes, watching the decrepit man begin to age backwards to a young adult.

You raise an eyebrow at how handsome he is. “Praise Seokjin,” You scoff, “My ride?” “A deal is a deal.” He stands now, waving you to follow him to his ferry. You allow him to help you in. He begins to row his boat in the direction of the gates, but rather than move towards them directly, he makes a slight right, flowing with the river current towards a tunnel beneath them. He whispers an incantation under his breath and a door in the tunnel appears. A loud clang rings through when the doors open and soon Heavens lights beam through at you both. He rows forward, stopping when he makes it through the doors. “This is where I leave you Demon. Ferrymen are not welcome beyond this point.” You nod, standing and stepping out into the tunnel. “Thank you, Ferryman.” He smiles. “Your Angel can get you back Demon. Enjoy.” He smirks, disappearing with a clap of his hands.

You make your way through the streets of Heaven, your head spinning from your heightened sense of smell, another one of your gifts. Angels always had a distinct smell to you, like cinnamon and honey. Some had stronger muskier scents like Yoongi, he always smelled woodsy to you. He was always different from the other Angels, his scent, mannerisms, all different from what you were used to. His voice ringing in your head now. “You should wear white when you come to Heaven to see me Noona. It will keep heads from turning.” You looked around at all the disgusted faces. Demons were not welcome in Heaven, regardless of business or not. “Demon bitch.” A man whispers as you walk past. You smirk, deciding to not respond. Seokjin forbid, Namjoon get word you were moving around heaven, let alone attacking citizens. You lift your head, a very distinct smell hitting you. It was no Angel scent. It was instead sulfur mixed with lilies. There was only one Demon you knew with such a distinct scent. You look around for its owner and smile when all the Angels begin to walk past you without a care in the world. “I’m intrigued to know what you’re doing here.” Jimin suddenly appears beside you. “Just scouting the competition.” You respond, turning to face him. His eyes are lit up red and you know he’s using his gift of Altered Perception to keep you both from being noticed. “Noona, we are all deviant creatures. It’s ok if you’re looking for a meal. I too am bored. They have such delectable Trainees in the Ethereal Guards. You may find something you like. Come with?” He pouts. You smirk. “As I said before, I’m scouting. Seokjin forbid I get caught slacking.” “Mm, yes, daddy’s pet has to be on her best behavior always. Well, if you change your mind.” He bites the tip of his finger and holds it out to you. “It’ll keep the Angel scum from seeing you while you move about.” You nod, wrapping your mouth around his finger, his wound healing as soon as you unlatch.

“Be careful old girl.” He smirks, spinning and disappearing in a puff of grey smoke. You release the nervous sigh you had been holding onto, moving faster now through the crowd. You arrive at Yoongi’s apartment complex, walking past the guard in the lobby, and straight for the elevator. When you get to the penthouse you exit the elevator, walking to his front door, entering the lock code into the keypad. You are immediately hit with his scent mixed with his need, your senses going into overdrive. You turn into his bedroom to see him standing by his bed, squinting at you in confusion, his erection unabashedly on display through his white linen pants. “Noona? You look, so beautiful.” You swallow hard, feeling your face blush. “What are you saying?” You snip. “Your hair. The flowers, the dress.” He describes and you look down at your body, at the black leather pants and black corset you’re wearing. “What,” You begin, eyes widening with realization, “Altered Perception.” “What?” He tilts his head. “You’re seeing me the way you imagine me. It’s Jimin’s gift, your perception is being altered because I drank his blood.” He stands straighter, covering his erection with his hands. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were just with someone.” You smirk, walking towards him to remove his hands from his rigid member and instead replacing them with yours. He whimpers at your touch.

“Oh Angel, did you think Noona would ever sleep with some lowly Demon over you?” You slowly palm him, his excitement leaking and staining the front of his pants. “I, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. It’s just, bloodletting is so, intimate.” “Not for me. It was a favor to keep me from being seen while I was here. It’s dangerous for me here.” “I know. I’m sorry. Thank you for coming. I know it’s not our normal day, but I missed you.” He confesses. “Do you have any idea what I had to do to get here?” He shakes his head, moving his hips in succession with your hand. “Take your pants off Angel.” He swallows hard, removing the article of clothing quickly, his large cock springing forward. You grip it hard before gently stroking his full length. He throws his head back, his precum spilling out into your palm. “How long have you been this hard Angel?” “Two days.” Your eyes widen and your cunt leaks at the thought of his resolve. “Such a good boy, waiting for his Noona.” You praise. “I waited as long as I could but today it was too painful.” “Spit on it.” You command, his reddened engorged tip resting in your opened palm. “What?” He questions. “Spit on your cock for Noona.” You whisper, palming his balls with your free hand. He mewls, nodding. He moves his jaw around, gathering his lubricant in his mouth, slowly allowing the spit to drip from his soft pout and onto his tip. You release a heated sigh at the sight, closing your fist around his tip and stroking him quickly. His body shudders, your name leaving his mouth in soft whispers over and over while you build up his high.

“Uh, please, I’m going to cum.” He warns. “Not yet you’re not.” You state to his desperate eyes, releasing his cock and shoving him onto the bed. He cries out, stretching his needy body from the lost orgasm. “Top off Angel.” He pants, removing his sweater. “Fuck! This skin. It’s so gorgeous.” You growl, moving forward and biting a red mark onto his chest. He moans, jolting his hips upward. You move to your knees and take his full length in your mouth. “Ah, fuck, Noona!” You glide up and down his cock, taking him to the back of your throat. You come up a moment for air, gathering all the moisture in your mouth. You look him deep in his eyes, gripping his cheeks. He opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out, allowing you to spit onto it. “Spit on your cock.” He is completely out of breath, spitting a mixture of your saliva onto the tip of his cock. You grip his shaft, moving up and down with the ease. “Noona.” He whines, hitching his hips upward into your fist. His head falling back while he keeps pace with you. Your phone begins ringing and Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Please Noona, ignore it, please. I need to cum so bad.” You stroke faster, his breath quickening. “Yes, please, don’t stop. I’m so close.” Your phone rings again and you release Yoongi’s angered cock. “No! No! Fuck!” He whines.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and put a finger to your lip. “Jin, how are you?” You answer. Yoongi’s eyes tighten to slits at the name that leaves your mouth. You get off your knees, sitting on the bed now, leaning up on the pillows. Yoongi looks at you with defiance. “Y/N, I need you to come see me. We have much to discuss.” You swallow nervously at the request. “Everything ok?” You question. Watching Yoongi watch you. “No, everything is not ok. Since when do you ask questions? I need you to come see me and that’s it!” He shouts. Yoongi growls and you give him an angered look. “What are you doing?” Jin’s voice comes into your ear. “Nothing. I’m... home.” Yoongi’s breath quickens in anger and he moves towards you, latching his mouth onto your neck, sucking at the flesh. You bite your lower lip to keep yourself quiet. “Well, we have an emergency here and I need my right hand by my side. Besides, shouldn’t you be out scouting?” “Of course,” You stutter, “I was getting ready to do just that.” There is a pause and then Jin scoffs. “Are you with someone?” “No, what would make you ask that?” You swallow. “It’s been a while since we fucked. I’m sure you’re in need. Come quickly and we can get a quick fuck in.” He immediately hangs up and Yoongi unlatches from your throat. You turn to meet Yoongi’s teary gaze.

“You fuck him?” He grumbles, fighting back his tears. “No. At least, not anymore.” You answer as honestly as you can. “Who fucks their boss?” He moves away from you. “Angel, please.” “Fuck you! You’re just like the rest of your kind. Liars.” He shouts, snatching his pants from the ground. You grab him quickly and slam him onto the bed. “Shh, my sweet Angel. No one touches me anymore. Only you. I promise.” You comfort him, kissing his cheeks and soon his pout. He resists at first but soon open his mouth for you to swirl your tongue around his. “Promise?” He whispers into your kisses. You nod, unzipping your leather pants. He moans, running his large hands down your back, gripping your bare ass. “Let’s me show you Angel.” He growls like a jaguar, the scent of jealousy releasing from his pores, and you chuckle. “You gonna change on me baby?” You ask, standing to remove your pants. He lays before you his rigid cock twitching in anticipation for your cunt. His body steams as his eyes glow blue, a lighthearted threat from the gifted Transmutationist. You moan, straddling him. “You don’t scare me Angel. I’ll tame any form you choose to take.” You smirk, lowering yourself onto his cock. He growls again, his eyes glowing brighter when you begin to ride him quickly. You throw your head back, moaning loudly. He licks at your exposed neck, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you up and down his member faster.

“That’s it Angel. Fuck this cunt.” Yoongi growls, flipping you over suddenly angling his needy cock into you so it rubs along your g-spot. You claw at his back, earning moan after moan from him. “Mine.” He growls, his sweat dripping onto your face. “Yours.” You assure him, wiping his dark locks from his forehead. Your mouth falls open. “Fuck, Yoongi, feels so good. Don’t stop.” You gasp, your orgasm sparking up from deep within you and shooting through your body steadily. You cry out his name, your pussy slick with your climax as he continues to pound into you. “I’m going to cum.” He whispers. “Yes Angel, fill me up.” He presses his forehead against yours, his hips staggering for a moment. “Hyung, Are you here?” You hear from Yoongi’s living room. “Don’t stop.” You tell Yoongi, nearly gagging on the scent of the sweet smell of Heaven’s dutiful Arch Angel Jung Hoseok. “I can’t. It’s too good. I’m cumming.” He pants, crying out your name. His seed shooting out into your warmth, leaking out with his continued thrust. “Hyung?” Hoseok emerges into Yoongi’s room. You turn your head away quickly to avoid being seen. “OUT!” Yoongi yells. “Shit! Sorry.” Hoseok shouts, running out.

“He’s gone.” Yoongi whispers. You turn to look up at him. “You think he saw me?” “No, he’s clueless.” “I should get going.” “To Jin?” He inquires. “To work.” You push him off you. “Why didn’t you tell me that you two were a thing?” “Should we exchange list?” You snap. “It’s different, he’s the king of the underworld.” “Don’t do this Yoongi. We just had a beautiful moment.” “Why do you avoid everything?” “Because I don’t answer to you. Now, I’m leaving.” You tug on your pants, standing to leave. “Noona, please. Don’t leave upset.” “Too late. Goodbye.” You say, walking out of his bedroom. You look about for Hoseok but don’t see him and make haste to the elevator. You’re gone no more than 5 minutes when your phone goes off with a text.

Angel: ‘Please don’t be upset with me. I’m sorry. Please, can I see you tonight?’

Me: ‘No.’

He doesn’t respond and for that you are grateful.  

[kazbrkker]

Chapter 10: The Price of War

Chapter summary: The events of Highway of Death told from Alex's perspective. Alexis' real name is finally uncovered, and one of her captors' identity is also revealed. (3327 words)

Warnings: Hadir's betrayal, character death, flashbacks of almost death.

   "Come on, stay with me!" an unfamiliar voice bounced around her head.

Was Alexis dreaming again?

Alexis was definitely dreaming again. Which was how she knew this was reality. Because she knew when she balanced over the thin line between life and death, she would dream. Sometimes she dreamt of hungover mornings and coffee runs with Maddox and the crew, inhumane circuit laps with Mactavish and Price, or the countless times Alex talked her ears off with the desire for another tattoo.

The pain that ached all over her body, accompanied by the abnormal brush of coldness told her it was time. Time to meet your maker.

She heard this joke once, and this sure as hell was the punchline.

"...keep squeezing... hand–"

Hadir? Was... was she really dreaming? This couldn't be real.

Worse were the dreams conjured by fear. The ones that took her right back to St.Petersburg to stare down the shimmering flames. The feeling of raw flesh after endless interrogations. And the reminder of wearing her blood like a second skin. It was she never left that tiny jail cell.

Alexis remembered the crackling of the flames. It was all that filled her ears. Her captors were missing. She was in the middle of nowhere.

The fire blazed a slow path straight for her like she was the final goal to reach. It tore down wooden crates, engulfed the flimsy curtains and went straight for her. Like the fire had a mind of its own and knew it wanted her.

This was it, the end of her legacy. Her stories were etched in flesh, and her book would be the grey stone in Arlington.

The salty tears streaming down her bruised eyes should have hurt, but didn't. The roaring fire snuffed out most of the oxygen and thinned the air. Her head was growing heavier by the seconds, eventually resting it against the grimy walls.

There are worse ways to go, she tried convincing herself.

When she started to drift away, she summoned enough energy to raise a fingertip over the wall—finding her name carved into the stones. Her real name.

Maybe, hopefully, somebody would remember her.

Her dreams manifested into her sleep over time. When she dreamt of St.Petersburg, she'd wake up with her mouth gaped wipe, like she paused mid-scream. Her fingers would tremble and she'd force herself to give in to her shaking legs and remain seated. She'd whisper to herself that it was only a dream. It'll stop.

Until it didn't.

Today, with her back on the ground, eyes rolled back, Alexis dreamt again.

The worst wasn't knowing she was going to die—that was the price of war. She had long made peace with the Grim Reaper. It was knowing she finally had something to live for.

Maybe this time her dream wouldn't stop.

━━━━━━

FIVE HOURS EARLIER:

29 October 2019, 0730 "Alex" CIA with Urzik militia Darus, Urzikstan

Alex hopped off the truck, inwardly expressing gratitude that after hours, they'd finally arrived at their destination. Though the aura of a village filled with rubble and dust in its silence put him off.

Ribbons of the early sun had already splashed across cerulean blue canvas. Behind him, Alexis blew a low whistle. He turned around to discover her standing in the middle of the elevated road—looking heavenward.

"What a view. Exactly the one I pictured–" Alexis marvelled.

Alia stopped her, "You picture your death?"

"Of course. You'd be surprised how disappointing death can be."

Alex kept a blank face despite feeling his heart drop. Apparently his cold shoulder treatment was starting to draw attention—evident when Farah arched an inquisitive brow beside him.

He returned with a shrug, still nursing his anger. He was pissed to be kept in the dark about Alexis' mysterious call. Her standoffish behaviour was from an all too familiar playbook that Alexis always operated out of—the masterful art of dodging.

It was exactly what happened after St.Petersburg. Which was why Alex had to intervene before it took a turn for the worse.

"You're out of it. Anything I should know?"

"What should you know?"

Answer a question with a question.

"If you want to lie to my face, go ahead. But I won't stand here and pretend to believe you."

"For CIA, you have no idea how to deal with women." Farah nudged him up the flight of stairs.

Only then did Alex realised he was spacing out. Although that couldn't stop him from thinking about how the early sun practically bathed Alexis with a halo. "Or... I know exactly what I'm doing," he smirked, climbing two steps at a time.

Farah smacked his arm, "Ah, don't play the game, play the man. I believe that's what you Americans call it." In combat, Farah was all expressionless and cold, but when the commander was out of the field, sometimes she allowed a certain amount of lightness to grace her smiles. They bumped fists with a knowing grin.

"Zip it," behind them, Alexis knocked Alia's head loudly, "Don't even think about dying."

"They'll have their hands full with her up there," Farah mused.

He heard Alia's terrible attempt at whispering—asking Alexis what he pictured for his deathbed. The cunning young lady certainly deserved an ovation. In more ways than one, Alia really was the splitting image of a young Alexis. Another loud whisper came from the young girl. "What do you mean he's not angry! You must be blind."

Alex recalled that one particular vacation in Bali that birthed this conversation. Just the two of them laying on the beach, free of woes and war. Three years felt like a lifetime ago.

"Throw me out of a helicopter, shoot me out a canon. I want my corpse to rain from the sky."

"Go out with a bang?" Alexis sipped on her frozen margarita, laying on a beach chair unbothered by the world. "That is very you."

Surely that sounded like an exaggeration. But if Alex had it his way, he would. Unfortunately, there was already a plot in Arlington reserved for him.

"Something like a sky burial," Alexis answered for him. Flashes of her chocolate hair loose on her shoulders and sunburnt cheeks left his mind. Alex felt her eyes burn into his back. "He's... weird."

"I heard that."

Several wobbly ledges later, they reached the vantage point that overlooked the highway, Hadir passed them two custom made sniper rifles. A larger than usual smile appeared on Alexis as she geeked at the custom rifle. It was almost comical—her jumping around while donning a ridiculous head gauze. While Hadir's impressive rifle put her in a good mood, Alex suspected it was Hadir, Farah and Alia responsible for this lighter shell of Alex.

He missed this version of her—not haunted by demons of her past. Trust it to be Urzikstan to draw out this side of her again. He'd do anything to make this Alexis stay.

"I'd watch that recoil, Lexi."

Alexis flashed a smile, pushing past him, "And I'd worry about your shots, babe. Trajectory is a bastard in this wind."

He set into a prone position right beside her, getting into tune with the new rifle. Then, Alexis cleared her throat loudly, winking into her sniper scope.

"Say, this cold shoulder treatment is getting a little old..."

A second later, she fired a clean shot into a watermelon 600 yards away. Hadir rejoiced in his native language, "Your fruit killing skills are remarkable, Alexis!"

"Don't I know it," Alexis winked. He sensed her scheming face before she even wore it, "Alex, since we're out here swatting flies, what do you say to a friendly competition?"

That interested him, "What's the catch?"

"No catch," she shrugged. "One minute. Whoever shoots the most is the winner. And the loser..." There was a glint in her eyes, "Has to do anything the winner says."

His eyes landed briefly on her grinning lips before he agreed.

The playing field was set: plastic bottles, some rotten fruits and crates. His index finger rested snuggly on the trigger, head lowered to dial into the scope.

"Okay! One minute starts..." Farah paused, "Now!"

Pulling the trigger was an unconscious effort by now, a steady exhale later and in between heartbeats, he fired. Right off the bat, he shot through one plastic bottle nested across the highway. Beside him, Alexis missed her shot, mumbling about how the recoil was too strong.

"Is the prize not enticing enough?" he mused, aiming for his second trophy.

"Only if you lose," her airy laughter made it hard to suppress another smile.

Within fifty seconds, it was a tie. It came down to the final plastic bottle. It was difficult to line a shot with the sun glaring right at him. Still, Alex kept his shoulders levelled and spoke with confidence, "Any last words?"

"You first."

Exhale.

Shoot.

Heart hammering in his chest, they watched collectively as the single bullet tore through the plastic bottle, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

"And that's how it's done!"

Alex tilted back to reach Hadir's high-fives. "My brother, your biggest fan," Farah smiled.

For someone who lost a bet, she didn't play the role. With a charming smile, Alexis' fingers snaked the curve of his wrist. Alex pretended she didn't just jolt him awake with a simple touch, "So. What am I supposed to do?"

"I know just the thing," a brash grin slipped back onto Alex's face, thinking how he had more luck than skills. Or maybe it was an added motivator.

━━━━━━

Everything went wrong quick and fast.

When Price radioed with news, they expected the Wolf to scramble their way. What they didn't expect was Barkov's company.

Alexis split from the group, taking main overwatch at the next building beside them. Her injuries worried him. But their promise to inexplicably trust each other in the field triumphed his concerns. An enemy sniper across the highway was picking Farah's army off one by one. And Alexis... "Dropped his ass!"

That's my girl.

Winking into his own scope, he burst the tires off a suicide truck with a single shot. The one upside about this shit show was that Barkov's army helped clean up the Wolf's men for them.

He dodged back into cover just in time when a bullet whizzed past him. Shit, they found him. Farah panicked, "We need help! Where is Captain Price?"

"Won't make it in time! We need a Hail Mary for these fuckers!" Alexis shouted over the crossfire.

He spared a quick glance to check on her. In the blinding sunlight, her hair turned into a colour that reminded him of bitter tea. Several stray pieces of hair stuck against her sweaty neck. Alexis was still holding her weight, but it was obvious she was growing weary.

But no amount of energy could change the fact that they'd be boxed in by the enemies soon. And Farah and Hadir had too much honour in their cause to retreat. Alexis was right, they needed an ultimatum.

"I've got more firepower in the truck! Alexis, cover us! And Alex, follow me!" Hadir nudged him. Alex left the rifle at his nest and dropped down the ladder to follow Hadir.

"Hadir! Please tell me you have a big enough stone!" Alexis yelled past the gunfires.

"The biggest, sister! They won't know what hit them!" He followed Hadir in and out of different houses.

Without warning, a spray of bullets burst through the battlefield. Alex didn't think much of it until Farah yelled Alexis' name in a state of manic. His first instinct was to charge back in their direction, but Hadir kept a death grip on his forearm, reminding him they only had a small window to make this work.

This better fucking work, Alex thought. Dying on the Highway of Death would be too prophetic.

"My truck is full of explosives, very powerful explosives, it's time to use them! Open the tailgate, quickly! I'll cover us! Open it, Alex!"

The truck held canisters of– "Russian gas?" The entire time Alexis and he spent looking for leads of the stolen gas...

Hadir stole them?

"Yes! And now we send it back to them!"

It was too late. The tremors of an explosion, the screamings. They were lucky not to be swept in the explosion radius, but from the green gas that now terrorised the air, that was the least of Alex's worries. Soldiers irregardless friend or foe, doubled over to cough their lungs out. Blood sprayed ruthlessly in the air before they collapsed.

"You said we needed a big enough stone. This is it, Alexis!"

"No... No no no! Not like this–" Her sentence cut off.

Alex was on autopilot at this point, blindly following Hadir back into a house. Only Farah yelled through the comms, but it was radio silence from Alexis.

Please be okay. Although the raw coughs outside the bunker made him feel foolish for harbouring hope.

The gas worked quick, already blurring his vision. His head spun wildly and his throat scratched. The deadweight of his combat vest alone was enough to make him flop like a raggedy doll. His weakness fed his panic. Alex held onto the bunker's walls with every bit of strength still inside him.

Alexis, he recited over and over again. Alexandra Ward.

Bring her home.

Find her. Find her. Find her.

If Alex hoped the incantation could hold power for him, he was greatly mistaken. One step forward, he crumpled down the floor like an abandoned puppet.

"Hadir–" Alex's vision floated in and out, unable to see Hadir. He briefly registered a new weight over his face. A gas mask. Alex slurred through his words, "Alexis... Find..."

He fought against losing consciousness, not knowing when Farah ended up in the bunker, but only knew she was alone. "Alexis!" he weakly tried their comms again.

Fuck, stay the fuck awake. Not like this.

He channelled all the remaining energy he had, however little. He didn't stop, not even when his breathing slowed, his vision now appearing in phases, or his urge to vomit his guts out. Frantic, he reached for anything he could get his hands on–

His fingers flexed, not even able to feel the texture of leather of his gloves. All he could do was that, and blink to keep himself awake. Hadir was mumbling incoherently about something, not wearing even an ounce of regret from the mere silvers of sight Alex peeked through.

Hadir ran out the door like a coward. Some part of him prayed for the shred of Hadir's humanity to find Alexis.

Alex swore he saw the sun outside melt away, turning his world blue in twilight. His last thoughts were about a certain Bali sky.

━━━━━━

The buzzing of a helicopter shocked him awake. Alex shot up immediately, realising they were still in the bunker. It was deadly quiet, too quiet. Then he realised it was just his blocked hearing.

His world still swirled on its own axis when Price and Kyle came running in. Staring blankly when Price shouted something he didn't understand.

Alexis. The fog in his brain cleared. He kneeled his way over to the unconscious women who laid beside him. Using all his might, he propped her into his lap, fear-stricken when blood stained his hands.

Where did that come from? He hurriedly wiped the molten blood off her head, finding the opened stitches to be the root source.

"Holy shit, captain," Kyle deadpanned, a face full of dread, "This is bad."

Price wasted no time before scooping Alexis up and away to the helicopter.

Alex was thankful for Price who supported the weight he most definitely couldn't: the weight of Alexis dying in his arms.

━━━━━━

It must have been only a few hours of solitude Alex had since they returned to base. Laswell sent all of them to medical immediately—and Alex answered with a clean bill of health. He might be out of the woods, but his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

An unmistakable voice roared outside his ward, followed by someone yelling. He cursed loudly when his eyes snapped open. Did everything have to be white and smell of ammonia?

When his door swung open, he immediately shoved his trembling hands into the sanctuary of the hospital gown's pockets. In his doorway, his glazy vision told him someone was propped up by two other figures. Once his vision finally registered who she was, he bolted over. Much like him, she had an IV drip in toll.

Alex caught her by the waist when she faltered. "Farah," he gave her a once-over, "They cleared you?"

The commander nodded, stepping into his room with feeble steps. Although Alex suspected Farah's ashen face wasn't the result of the toxic gas. He passed her the tray of hot porridge that sat idly on his table.

His hands dropped when Farah eyed it in concern. He cleared his throat, jerking his head to the tray. As expected, Farah rejected it too.

"I'm sorry, Farah," he started, tracing the IV needle embedded in his forearm. For strange reasons, it calmed him. "Hadir..."

"Is my brother," Farah said sharply, "I should have known..." Alex rushed to her defence, but Farah raised her voice in both sadness and anger, "No Alex, I should have known. It is my job as his sister. Hadir was losing faith in the militia, but I pretended not to see it."

Alex averted his sight away. Unsure what to say to comfort Farah. He couldn't begin to understand, nor did he want to pretend he could. Farah rubbed an exasperated hand over her face, "Hadir killed most of my men. And..." Her voice wavered, eyes shining brighter under the blinding fluorescent lights.

"Alia," he said on her behalf.

How did everything go sideways so fast? Five hours ago, all of them were squeezed in the back of a truck, wind in their hair and laughter in their words. Alexis had promised Alia to a hamburger after this shitty war passed, because the war-torn girl had never seen one, let alone tasted one.

"Hadir will pay." Again, Alex remained silent. What could be worse than hunting your own brother? "And if Alexis... doesn't make it..."

Alex sighed, still rubbing circles around his IV. Farah's words all but gutted him.

Alexis tried going back for Alia, which prolonged her exposure. Her open wounds sent her condition from dangerous to life-threatening. The ringing in Alex's ears was so loud but he managed to hear something about chlorine poisoning.

Alex tiredly pressed his palm against his eyes, trying to force the memory of Alexis' rigid body out of his mind but only received another vision of her intubated with an oxygen ventilator. "The Cipro and antitoxin are a wild shot. They're more worried about the fluid in her lungs."

To Alex's surprise, Farah picked up the bowl of porridge to eat. The smallest of smiles tugged across her lips and somehow it made Alex feel much better. "I have no doubt she'll wake in a few hours. She's a tough one."

Alex remained silent.

"Maybe we should try dangling that forsaken ration pack she loves," Farah tried to joke, but her tone felt otherwise. A few seconds later, she continued, "Alexis survived worse. She will pull through."

Was Farah talking about St.Petersburg? It almost slipped his mind that she was the reason for Alexis' safe return. Well, her and... Hadir.

Hadir's betrayal would break Alexis... If Alia's death wouldn't.

Maybe guilt encouraged Farah to supplement the gaps in Alex's understanding, but she explained everything. From the burning house, Alexis' threatening to leave, to how she delivered Alexis safely to St.Petersburg. Whatever Alex knew was from the mission report, the gruesome details blacked out for clearance. The way she described Alexis' injuries induced nausea in him again.

But something else Farah said intrigued him. "A few weeks after Alexis left, the mercenaries returned to Urzikstan. Demanding blood for the American, they said."

Alex leaned out of his chair upon hearing this. It was a piece of the puzzle the rescue task force was couldn't collect. Even the joint task force of JSOC, CIA and SAS ran up cold leads as to who was behind the kidnapping.

"One of the men mentioned a name, Gaia."

‧͙⁺˚*·༓

a/n: alexandra... ward!!!!!!! her name is strictly need-to-know so we gotta thank alex for his pov lmao. & i'm pretty sure her injury counter is through the roof rn. but cheers to me for beating up my characters lol.

alia though... i'm absolutely gutted over this.

taglist: @shigarakiluvbot​ @wanderlustgiant​ @captain-pikas-world​ (wanna be tagged? lmk!)

[kenzieam]

The Reaper and the Vixen - Chapter Twelve (Eric X Fox)

Rating: M

Genre: Drama, Angst, Language, Smut

Thanks everyone for the re-blogs and support!!! IT IS SO AWESOME!!!

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Four loitered in the hallway for awhile, listening to the faint voices coming from the far room. A times Fox and Eric’s voices would rise in volume and Four shifted uneasily at the sound. He’d truly thought that Eric and Fox were meant to be, that after years of being alone, his friend and brother was finally going to have the same happiness that Four had with Tris.

Faint stirrings of regret coiled in his gut. He’d come down hard on Fox today, and so had Tris. It had been a knee-jerk reaction when Tris had told him about Fox’s retreat. He realized he was abnormally protective of Eric, to the point of cruelty towards a perceived threat and began to pace to burn off his guilty energy. He’d seen true remorse on Fox’s face as he’d led her down here, and her crying had burrowed deeply into his heart, making him rethink his initial fury. Fox’s reaction was completely understandable once you stopped to think about it. Tris had hit her with a lot; fuck, Eric himself hadn’t been ready to tell her yet because he knew how big of a blow it would be. She already had trouble trusting people, of course she’d have problems adjusting.

Four realized the voices from the room had stopped and he paused in his pacing, listening closer. He’d no doubt that Fox was truly sorry about her actions, but what would Eric do? He was, deep down Four knew, insecure about himself and what he had to offer a partner. Those three dark years of hell had done a number on him, tattooed his soul and psyche. He was worried of falling back into that shadowy place, fearful about devolving, regressing into that monster and maybe never coming back.

“That him?” Four asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t follow too close.” Eric replied, making Four snort with derision.

“I do know how to tail someone, Reap.”

“Yeah, like T-Boone? Fucker could hear you behind him the whole time, it was like a dump truck driving through a-”

“Shhh!” Decker grunted.

Four and Eric fell silent, glaring petulantly at each other for a heartbeat before grinning widely and looking away with a chuckle. Four grew instantly serious, glancing in his mirror before pulling out to follow the obnoxiously chromed Escalade currently carrying their quarry, the equally obnoxious Anthony Fraiy.

Reaper, Four, Decker, Dropkick and a prospect named Seger had left the compound at the ass-crack of dawn this AM in the club’s van, on their way to pay a visit to the slick prick currently concealed behind near-black tint, his vanity plate the ultra douchey ‘WINNING’. It irked them to no end to have to leave their bikes (extensions of their very selves) at home, but they needed stealth, and five Harley’s rumbling down the road were the exact opposite of that. After only an hour on the road Decker’s contact had called his encrypted cell with the news that Fraiy had left LA, was on his way to whoop it up in San Francisco for a few weeks. Immediately Four had gotten cold feet, demanded they return to the compound and make a new plan. The Golden Gate City was new territory, the battleground not set.

“No. I want it done now, while my girl’s not around. That fuck’s been walking around free for too goddamn long. It’s time to pay the piper. We’ll follow him for a while, but I want it done before Fox gets back from Seattle.”

Decker had been on Four’s side, ready to back off and attack another day, but Dropkick was squarely in Eric’s camp, while the prospect wisely kept silent, reluctantly agreeing with Eric only after being pushed to make some type of a decision.

Now they’d been tailing the bastard all day, taking turns driving, watching and learning, while Decker gleaned what info he could from his laptop. Fraiy was being careless right now, partying without care at a large outdoor park, drinking like a fish but surprisingly staying away from the powders and pills offered to him. There was no way that they would grab him there, with dozens upon dozens of witnesses, but Decker had done something extremely clever and even more illegal with his computer, and they’d tapped into Fraiy’s cell phone. After midnight Fraiy had decided he’d stayed clean long enough, called a dealer, and was soon gathering his posse to meet said dealer down by an abandoned pier before heading back to the lavish suite he’d rented at the Four Seasons.

“Thank Christ he’s got a flair for drama.” Four muttered, yawning. “A normal person would find a parking lot, this prick has to go all Hollywood on us.” They’d slept in cycles for the day, at least two awake and watching, following Fraiy as he’d jaunted about town, meeting new douche-canoe clients and flashing cash. “What an asshole.”

Eric’s adrenaline had been raging, in fact he’d been on fire all day watching Fraiy, watching the bastard dance around like he’d never done something so reprehensible as drug and rape a woman, like he was King Shit. Eric’s hands twitched constantly as the Reaper begged to come out and play.

They’d reached the docks first and killed the worthless dealer straight away. He was high as a kite, completely alone and consequently, an easy target; then they sat back and waited for the real objective to arrive. The Escalade had slowed to a stop, music thumping through the windows and a whole gaggle of merry assholes had fallen out. Fraiy and his posse were absolutely oblivious to any danger, laughing and goofing off. The only one paying attention was the new guy; the one Fraiy had just hired a few days ago, a big bastard who never stopped scanning the surroundings. But even he wasn’t ready for what was coming, courtesy of the Reaper.

It had been easy. A necessary evil, all of Fraiy’s posse was dispatched, most of them were too high to even realize there was danger and within seconds it was only Eric and his brothers standing over a babbling, stammering Anthony Fraiy. He’d sobered in a hurry, tried to run but Four had clothes-lined him, dropped him to the ground where he’d delivered a savage kick to his stomach, making him gasp like a fish.

Eric advanced on him, eyes unwavering and Fraiy started to tremble as he saw his impending doom.

“Wh- what do you want?” His voice shook, tears beginning to form in his wide eyes.

Eric didn’t answer immediately and dropped to a crouch next to the shaking man. Fraiy tried to crawl away but the brothers crowded him and he turned his terrified attention back to Eric, now the Reaper. Four could see the change, the very altering of Eric’s posture, the set of his shoulders. His friend was temporarily gone, and in his place was the man who brought death.

“Your soul.” The Reaper replied, his voice cold and Four couldn’t stop a shudder.

He’d stopped begging for mercy an hour ago, was now crying like a baby when the Reaper finally answered his tearful question. “Why? What did I do?”

“Remember Fox Layton?” Fraiy’s face went deadly pale. “The woman you drugged and raped?” The Reaper lightly trailed the gut-hook knife he’d been toying with along Fraiy’s jaw, almost like a lover. “I’m here for her.” Without hesitating he thrust the knife through the meaty part of Fraiy’s cheek and yanked harshly towards his chest, ripping open one side of a Glasgow smile in the howling man’s face.

Fraiy’s voice gave out long before he stopped trying to scream.

The body stilled, a few last shivers coursing through the limbs as the Reaper pulled the blade free. In all honesty, Fraiy had held out longer than anyone expected him to, and Four was toying with the idea of suggesting Eric wrap it up, the sun had risen for Christ’s sake, when he’d finally seemed to decide that Fraiy had endured enough, and stabbed him one last time decisively in the heart.

The Reaper stood, his back to Four, still staring down at the twitching corpse, then he turned his head, eyes meeting Four’s and the VP shuddered at the arctic cold in his brother’s eyes. Looking back down at Fraiy, he rolled his shoulders and exhaled heavily before turning to look again at him and Four could only breathe a sigh of relief as he saw Eric back in his friend’s eyes. The Reaper was asleep again, for now.

Slight movement caught Four’s attention and he glanced to his right. The bodyguard they’d thought dead, the only one who’d put up any sort of a fight, was weakly swinging an arm, holding a shaking gun in his hand. There was no time for anything else; the prospect, Seger, standing the closest to the bodies, was moving too slowly to help.

“Eric!” He pulled his gun, but it was too late.

Following Four’s horrified gaze, Eric turned to look and everything was suddenly in slow motion.

A gunshot rang out and everything fell apart.

Fox didn’t appear in the hallway, as Four was half-expecting her too; surely if she broke up with Eric she wouldn’t be staying in there with him and he began to wonder if she’d had a change of heart, if seeing Eric like that, near death and covered in blood had clarified things for her or maybe she’d just finally had time to think and acknowledge what everyone else could already see, that she and the Reaper were made for each other, that their pasts only made them stronger together.

Unwelcome images bombarded Four then, haunting memories he never wanted to go through again but knew he’d see in nightmares for years to come; the shock and first bloom of pain on Eric’s face when he’d turned at Four’s shout and right into the path of the bullet from the bodyguard with nine lives; the way his body had jolted, his faint grunt of surprise. The way his eyes had rolled back in his head as he’d collapsed bonelessly to the ground, his white t-shirt, already stained with Fraiy’s drying blood beginning to darken anew with his own. Screaming like a man possessed Four emptied the rest of his clip into the immortal bastard, would’ve slammed another clip in and emptied that one too if Decker hadn’t grabbed him, knocking the gun from his hand. Dropkick’s face was white with shock when Four finally broke free from Decker and scrambled to reach them. The man was on his knees beside Eric, pressing his hands over his chest while thick blood oozed from between his fingers. Eric was pale, half-conscious and hardly responsive. Seger, knowing he’d dropped the ball and allowed his President to be hurt, wavered on his feet, stunned.

Four had wasted precious minutes trying to get ahold of old Cyrus Packer, finally calling Ace, the President of their brother club down here, the Savages and learning that the infamous (in biker club circles) back alley doctor had OD’d a month ago and the club hadn’t found anyone to replace him yet. Eric was holding on, but he was definitely going to need someone with medical training soon. Feeling real panic, for one of the first times in his life, Four had made the call to try and get back to Doc at the clubhouse, then, after working it out with Ace for the Savages to get down here poste haste and clean up the mess the Hessians were about to leave behind, he’d spent the next three hours in the back of the van freaking the fuck out, begging Eric to stay with him, to stay awake and keep talking, to not die and leave him. Yeah, he hadn’t been in the best frame of mind when they’d arrived at the clubhouse, Eric had stopped responding to them twenty minutes earlier; only the pain of Silkie trying to get a vein and Doc all but digging his finger into the bullet wound had roused him enough to start struggling against them again, his eyes glazed with agony and confusion.

Fox had received the brunt of Four’s panicked desperation and he’d lashed out at her instead of doing what he really wanted to do, which was tear his hair from his head and run screaming around the compound until his fraying sanity finally snapped, anything but confront the reality that Eric could die, that he’d been shot right in front of Four, that he’d failed to protect his friend and brother. There was precious little in his life that Four wouldn’t willingly sacrifice to never feel like that again, to know the helpless terror of watching the life of someone you loved slip away.

He swallowed hard, blinked away sudden tears.

His feet carried him silently down the hallway and he peeked his head quietly around the door.

Eric had rolled partially onto his right side and he and Fox lay facing each other on the bed. They were pressed tightly together, hands clasped, heads sharing the same pillow. Eric’s eyes were closed and he appeared asleep. Although pale, he looked content; his jaw, gritted with pain only a short time ago was relaxed, his body peaceful and pliant.

Fox was still awake, gazing at Eric and the look in her eyes took Four’s breath away. Her hand traced lightly along his stubbled cheek and she was humming quietly, too low for Four to make out what. But the love that was shining in her eyes was what captured his attention; it was something Four had never seen before, it made his chest tighten, sent a sudden stab of guilt right through him at even contemplating the notion that Fox didn’t completely and irrevocably love Eric. It was glaringly obvious that she lived and breathed for this man, right now in this private moment of vulnerability, and Four felt suddenly like a voyeur, like an unwelcome spy.

Pulling back, Four turned and crept away, careful not to make a sound.

As he entered the bar area Tris looked up from a table then stood and stormed over to him.

“Where is she?” She demanded hotly. “Is she in there bothering-” Four grabbed Tris’ arm hard, and stunned, she fell silent. Glancing quickly around to make sure they hadn’t attracted too much attention Four started marching towards the stairs, pulling Tris along with him. He only released her arm once they’d entered their room and he’d shut the door behind them.

“Tobias! What the fuck-” Tris, already riled up, was firing on all cylinders now.

“You were wrong.” He snapped shortly. “We both were.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Fox. And Eric. She’s not trying to run away.”

“Sure the hell looked like-”

“You didn’t give her a chance to process the news. Christ Tris, don’t you remember what she just told you? What that bastard did to her? She has trust issues and rightfully so; and Jesus Fuck, neither one of us helped that by tearing her apart just now. She’s in there right now with Eric, so close they’re practically melded together and Eric’s sleeping like a baby; and fuck me, the look in her eyes, watching him? I’ve never seen someone look at someone else like that before, it’s like Romeo and Juliet level shit!”

Tris fell silent, and the belligerence that had been blazing in her eyes weakened. She started to worry at her bottom lip, gaze flicking from the floor to Four and back again.

“We owe her a fuck of an apology.” Four stated flatly. “But not right now, let them have some quiet time together.”

Tris nodded humbly, eyes flicking up at Four’s before dropping again. Like Four, she’d been too caught up in defending Eric to react rationally and, now that she was aware of that, felt a sharp stab of guilt.

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly, and Four knew what she meant. Was he still reeling from the shock of seeing Eric near death, of watching him bleed out? Was he going to be able to sleep tonight or was he just going to lay there silently, staring at the ceiling, or sitting down in the bar in the dark, smoking a joint and nursing a drink, waiting for the sunrise?

Four shook his head, closing his eyes and bit his lip as he felt Tris wrap her arms around him, then he let his head fall to rest on hers and, for a few short minutes, let himself cry.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** Eric woke first, grimacing as his eyes opened and daylight struck him. He felt sore, disjointed, yet oddly content and his lips pulled into a smile when he saw the reason for his contentment. Fox was still asleep, long lashes brushing her cheeks, her skin pale, making faint freckles stand out. Her hand was curled tightly in Eric’s and he saw faint, dried tears on her cheeks, the pillow they shared still damp underneath her face.

When she’d confessed to him last night that she now knew the truth of his dark past, and that her first instinct had been to run, Eric hadn’t known what to do. The pain in his chest was suddenly nothing, the barest twinge compared to the anguish flooding his heart. If Fox left him, and over something like that, something he couldn’t change, then Eric might as well just stop fighting, stop living, just tear the stitches holding his bullet wound together and let his blood flow again, only this time, watch it surge across his chest and not try with everything he had to stay, to fight not to leave. Three hours is a long fucking time to be laying in the back of a van clinging desperately to life, battling the darkness threatening to consume you, frantically conjuring the image of your beloved, your fucking soul mate to keep yourself from succumbing to the peaceful oblivion, but Eric had; he’d fought tooth and nail to return to Fox, only to hear that she wasn’t staying. Anger had flooded him then, helpless rage and bone-deep fury, but even still, he hadn’t meant the words ‘get the fuck out’, and he never would.

Fox’s eyelids fluttered and she sighed breathily as her eyes slowly opened. Surprise flashed across her face for a millisecond, then was replaced by relief; tears started to form in her eyes and Eric winced as he reached to brush them away. Pulling back he just gazed at her for a long moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

The fragile hold Fox had on herself and her emotions broke and she started to cry; bowing forwards, tucking her face into Eric’s throat as she shook and Eric ached to comfort her. He shifted, hissing as his stitches pulled and a sharp stab of pain ripped through his chest, freezing in place until the pain weakened and tapered off, then shifted again, squirming closer to Fox. She clung to him like a life raft, anguish tearing through her, her body shaking with the force of her sobs and Eric could only hold her and stroke one hand slowly down her cheek, wait for her sorrow to abate. Finally, her tears slowed and Fox sniffled hard against his throat.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” Eric murmured back. “We’re not looking back anymore.” He ducked his head, enough to catch her eye and used his finger and thumb to tilt her chin. “You and me, the past is over. It’s gone.”

Fox nodded, swallowing hard then her forehead furrowed for a heartbeat.

“Is he dead? Anthony? That’s where you went, right? Four told me.”

Eric nodded, eyes hardening. Before Four had brought Fox to him, he’d talked with his VP, learning what happened after he’d been shot. They owed the Savages big now, they’d cleaned up the mess left behind, disposed of the bodies while his brothers scrambled to save him.

“He’s dead, I made sure he suffered first, but yeah, he’s gone.” Eric held his breath, waiting for Fox’s reaction. How did you react really, when you learned someone had killed another for you?

A thousand emotions flashed through Fox’s tear-filled eyes; Eric saw brief horror, fascination and, overwhelming everything else, relief. Snuggling closer she burrowed her face in his chest. “Thank you,” she choked, clearly torn between bone-deep liberation and a nagging conscience. “I.... I hate to admit it and I’m not sure I’ll ever want the details..... It’s wrong, but I wanted him dead.... and I didn’t think I’d be strong enough to do it myself.” Eric heard lingering shame in her voice; although she was admitting to it, she was still struggling with her intent, with her desire for revenge that went so far against the grain of ‘civilized society’.

“Don’t,” Eric repeated. “Don’t waste anything more on that piece of shit. He’s not worth it, he hurt you unforgivably and now he’s paid for it. His life was forfeit the moment he decided to violate your trust like that.” Eric paused, a new thought hitting him, and he asked tentatively. “Do you wish you’d been there? I was trying to protect you from-”

Fox raised her head, eyes wide. “No, no. I don’t think I could stand to see him again.” Her eyes softened and Eric leaned gratefully into her hand as she cupped his cheek. “Thank you.”

“I love you Fox. I will always protect you, no matter what.”

Fresh tears spilled over Fox’s cheeks and she shook her head, wiping at her face. “I don’t deserve you-”

Eric crashed his lips to Fox’s to silence her; she had no idea of her worth, of her importance to him, of her standing in his life but he would goddamn well show her, every single day.

Fox melted against him with a moan, yielding to his kiss and drawing a groan from deep in his chest. Her hand curled around the back of his head, pulling him closer as their tongues tangled together and Eric felt her surrender to him, give over that last little piece of resistance, broken loose by the intensity and power of Eric’s love for her, by his reckless action to bring her peace.

The lingering pain in Eric’s body faded to the background as warmth rushed through him. His body, wounded and aching, wanted more, wanted to feel Fox joined with him, to chase away the last lingering doubts of their connection and he traced her cheekbone tenderly with his fingertip, his eyes and touch conveying his desire.

Fox pulled away, eyes widening. “No Eric, your chest-”

“Doesn’t hurt,” Eric grunted, eyes darkening. That was a lie, he was in considerable pain, but he’d gladly suffer through it for the chance to feel Fox now.

Doubt flashed in her kaleidoscope eyes but Eric pulled her back to him, pouring everything into his kiss and Fox gave in with a shudder. Her hand trailed down his abdomen and crept below the sweats Doc and Four had dressed him in earlier after he’d stabilized and he hissed, teeth gritted as her fingers grazed his straining cock.

“Fuck baby-” he groaned, palm finding the swell of her breast. His thumb flicked across her nipple just as she stroked up and down his shaft and they moaned in unison. Eric rolled onto his back, pointedly ignoring the jolt of pain in his chest and gripped Fox’s hips, pulling at her to straddle him. Fox followed easily, lips parted on harsh pants. Sitting up on her knees slightly Fox yanked at his sweats, pulling them down his thighs and letting his dick spring free, straining and red, tip weeping in anticipation.

Their eyes caught and held, a multitude of thoughts and emotions ferrying back and forth between them. Eric’s fingers curled bruisingly hard on Fox’s hips and she squirmed, struggling to shed her clothes. Her fingernails gouged red trails in her own skin as she yanked furiously at her underwear and finally she was free, tossing the articles away carelessly, focussed solely on relieving their desperate craving.

Eric arched back into the pillow with a strangled groan as Fox sank down onto him, as he filled her in one smooth push. Fox bit back a cry, bucking above him, her movements hindered by Eric’s grip on her hips. Their eyes locked again as their bodies began to move together, Fox rocking her hips, pulling Eric deeper each time. His eyes rolled back in his head as an amazing wave of sensations crashed over him, his pain forgotten. Wanting to see her again, he opened his eyes, a fresh claw of lust hooking him at the fierce desire in Fox’s eyes. Their gaze held as their movements grew less coordinated, as they climbed higher and higher together. Eyes narrowing as the sweet pain grew overwhelming, Eric reached up, cupping Fox’s cheek and pulled her down for a fevered, soul-claiming kiss before Fox reared back as her climax hit, biting back a shriek of ecstasy. Eric bucked beneath her, surrendering to his own violent release, choking back a roar as indescribable pleasure crashed over him, wave after delicious wave of soul-deep gratification. Everything else faded away as he pulsed inside his woman, filled her with his seed, felt her throb around him; then Fox sagged above him, panting, muscles trembling with aftershocks and exertion. Eric pulled her to him, gasping for breath, the adrenaline racing through him enough to dull the pain waiting to ambush him, but Eric didn’t care, he’d willingly put up with unfiltered agony just to experience this bliss again.

“I don’t remember giving the all-clear for that.” A dry voice remarked from the doorway and Fox bit back a squeak of surprise, yanking the covers over her naked body, burrowing into Eric’s side. Still riding a high better than any drug Eric grinned lazily at Doc, leaning against the doorframe and trying hard to look serious. Giving up he shook his head with a smirk. “Take it easy boss, I don’t feel like repairing any torn stitches.”

“Mind your own business.” Eric grinned and Doc snorted with amusement.

“You got five minutes then I’m coming back to check your bandage!” Doc yelled over his shoulder as he turned to leave, pulling the door closed again behind him.