TITLE: Terrible Temptations
CHAPTER: 1
AN: PLEASE READ. This story is about adult situations, behaviors, loss, learning what falling in love means and how to overcome the fear of losing that kind of control. My research tells me, I'm the first to create a Master Chief/Lasky Slash pairing. So I'm calling it Chasky! Also, you might notice when you read the first chapter there's a threesome - rolls her eyes innocently to the ceiling - in here. So if this isn't your thing, then you should stop right here, or you could just close one eye and keep reading.
Look, I'm as big a fan of HALO as you are, but I'm also an adult. I'm always interested in and think about what happens after the door closes, the lights go out, or the credits roll. I want to know what's going on under that Mjolnir armor and in Master Chief's head.
Even the biggest, baddest, toughest of us have a breaking point or line we must force ourselves to cross just to keep breathing or find the courage to make the choice to live. So I just wanted to explore that and well, there's sex, too.
"Do you think it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength, and courage to yield to." —Oscar Wilde
Although, sleeping comfortably with plenty of space for their longs limbs is unusual for a Spartan. They certainly never become used to the feel of a pillow supporting their head or a soft blanket over their chest and feet. For a Spartan to be naked, without armor and a weapon close at hand, is an almost certain death sentence. Here he was comfortable, warm and at peace. Although the journey to this place of respite had been difficult, he could no longer understand why he resisted in the first place. Resistance meant stagnation, and he knew that now. The unwillingness to change, discover more of life, or the courage to explore different aspects of himself meant staying forever as a trained killer. More at home with blood on his hands than in the company of his fellow humans.
The taste of the meal he'd enjoyed last night had been unusual. Cleared away hours before, the sultry, rich scent of red wine, and the beefsteak still drifted on the warm air of the room. The crusty taste of the sourdough bread pleased him. Fresh, warm, and yeasty the feel of the crust in his mouth had been an adventure. The wine they'd enjoyed, another delightful discovery. He'd probably had too much of both, but the unusual opportunity to enjoy conversation, which hadn't included talk of fighting or battle plans or mission scenarios, allowed him to enjoy the moment. The food, the company, and the comfort of real sleep were rare indulgences for a man who lived on the battlefield and slept in a Cryotank.
Wide-awake now, his eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness and the Spartan continued his perusal of the room. An officer's quarters, obviously, which meant the almost unheard of luxuries of a private latrine and kitchenette. A few personal mementos jockey for position among books, weapons, and electronic devices. There's a uniform neatly draped over a chair, with boots lined up with military precision. The only light in the room is the pale blue of the Comm panel by the door. The blue light signals the unit is off, and means do not disturb. Even the A.I.'s pedestal is dark. Which is also unusual, he thought, as he rolled to his side.
The motion bared his back, and a draft of cool air shivered down his spine. There's movement behind him, and a long arm replaced the blanket over his shoulder. The limb yielded to his grasp, and the body behind him moved obediently closer. The warm, sensuous length of feminine curves warmed his backside as no blanket ever could. The fingers splayed over his abdomen sent a thrill of anticipation coursing along his already sensitized nerve endings. After tucking her legs behind his, he felt and heard a long sigh as the woman fell back to sleep. The warmth of her breath tickled the back of his neck, and he thought about turning over to tuck her into his body and bury his nose in the rich silk of her sable brown hair.
But a gentle hand on his cheek directed his gaze down to a pair of brown eyes set in a boyishly handsome face. The man moved closer and wrapped his arms around the Spartan's powerful torso, pressing his cheek against the firm muscles. The Spartan smiles with pleasure when he feels their fingers intertwine over his stomach.
As he contemplated these sensations and the promise of haven in the touch and reflective brown eyes, he acknowledged it was this man curled so trustingly against the body of a trained killer who taught him, even dared him to take a chance on living.
When he reached out to card the man's soft brown hair back from his eyes, a sharp and unexpected lance of pain, made him suck in a breath, when the Spartan realized Cortana hadn't been his first thought when opened his eyes.
~o0o~