Displaced

Chapter 1: That stupid ache

Ripley paid close attention as Hicks explained how to use the grenade launcher. His hands were over hers, showing her what to do. They were just touching. Matter-of-factly, he guided her fingers, adjusted her stance, but she could feel the tension coiled underneath his skin.

She felt him watching her while she listened to his instructions. He sounded relaxed. Her elbow bumped against his chest armour and she expected him to step back. He stayed exactly where he was.

When she glanced at him, she saw that he was almost smiling. Ripley remembered this from a long, long time ago. The way guys would size her up. Hair, face, tits, waist, ass, legs. Hicks's gaze went beyond that.

At first, she'd thought it was a Marine thing, but the others were less attentive. They had each others' back, but Hicks was the only one whose eyes searched for her face after every attack. He checked whether they were all still alive before he did anything else. No, that wasn't right. He confirmed it while he was looking for an exit or getting his equipment in order. It was second nature for him to make sure that everyone was safe.

'You're one hell of a civilian,' he chuckled.

Ripley lowered the M41A pulse rifle slightly and stared at him. Somehow she must have impressed him. By not falling apart, maybe. As if she could afford to.

At least he didn't tell me not to worry, she thought. She appreciated that. She'd been lied to enough to last a lifetime. Still, Hicks was the type of guy who got away with saying that kind of shit. 'Cause he'd make it true if he could.

'Don't bullshit me,' she warned him. 'No offense.'

'None taken.'

The weight of the weapon was starting to be a strain on her shoulder, but she was loath to relinquish it. Not while fear and yearning were mingling in her gut. Goddamn it, this was absolutely not the time or place.

'So kiss me,' she demanded, sort of harsh.

Hicks didn't seem to mind. He moved closer, crossing a distance that wasn't even there. There was no time to notice any of the usual things. She didn't notice his hands, except how they took the gun away. She didn't notice his strong jaw line; she noticed that his jaw wasn't set. She looked into his eyes and saw his desire, not their colour. Appearance was the furthest thing from her mind. Afterwards, she couldn't say whether he was handsome, though she thought he was.

She welcomed him. The feeling of his mouth on hers briefly shut up the ache within her. The beats were off, though. It wasn't hard enough, wasn't quick enough. His lips pressed down, kissing, kissing, kissing. Less lust than unexpected tenderness. Oh God, she realised; he likes me.

His hands moved at a different pace than his lips. Buttons and zippers came undone. His armour got them both frustrated. They yanked until it finally came off. Their skin pulsed when they reconnected. Fingertips fluttered along her thigh as she pulled him to the floor.

Collecting bruises, they chafed against each other. He was kissing her again, so gently that it hurt. Then, fast and hot, he entered. Ripley moaned. It didn't take long. They both wanted it too much.

He sucked in his breath, sharply. His entire face softened for a second. There was something shy and innocent about it and she wondered how the fuck he'd managed to retain that. Right now, she could probably tell him not to worry and he'd believe it because he trusted her.

Ripley stayed on top of him with his warmth wrapped around her. It came to her in a rush: the ache was there because she liked him too.