Author's Note: Set during the middle of Season 4, this was originally written in response to a challenge for a Scorpius/Sikozu shippy fic. I couldn't have them being all mushy, but I did get them in bed.
Scorpius turned towards his door just as Sikozu rounded the corner, walking softly on light feet. He had heard her coming, and was glad to see her. She was useful, as a link to the rest of Moya's crew (though none of the crew seemed to trust her much more then they did him) and as someone he could count on to do and see things his way. He smiled slightly, lips closed to hide pointed teeth, as her step quickened. She was eager to see him, eager to be with him again. He turned his back to the door and sat on the bed, pretending to be occupied, allowing her to sneak up on him so she could feel she had some sort of upper hand.
A moment later, he felt her cool hand sliding along his cheek and down across his armored chest. Her loose hair brushed against his cheek as she bent her head to his.
"I'm back," she whispered in his ear. He turned towards her and she sat, facing the opposite direction.
"So I see," he said, brushing one red curl from her face and sliding his hand down to rest on her thigh. His other hand stroked her shoulder and she sighed, tipping back her head and arching her back like a small, trusting animal being stroked. He smiled and she smiled back, looking into his eyes. She leaned forward, expectant. As he bent to kiss her his grin widened; she was so trusting, so young, so eager. And she had no idea how he was using her. Or rather, how she would be used. Already she had begun to give his answers instead of her own at crew meetings where he dared not speak up, and her natural intelligence and strong will were being consumed by his careful management while he still profited from both.
The kiss deepened, her soft body pushing up against his in her eagerness, and he kept at the play, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss as his gloved hands stroked her back and curled under her short skirt. She shivered as the leather slid across her skin, a touch he knew put her completely in his power.
This relationship was completely different from his one with Natira. That had been a relationship of constant conflict, with each of them struggling to overpower the other, each striving for supremacy. And yet he had cared for her, as much as he allowed himself to care for anyone. Which was not so much that he allowed himself to fall in love; when she had gotten in his way she had become immediately dispensable. So it was with Sikozu: while he enjoyed… physically… these encounters, they served more to bind her to him so that when the time came, she would chose him over the others and, if necessary, put a knife—literal or figurative—in whichever back he chose.
Breaking of the kiss, he pressed his lips against her throat and cheek, licking lightly, as his hands searched for the hidden clasp on the back of her shirt, which left little to the imagination anyway. With a low moan she leaned against him, completely in his power. Yes, she would go, if it was better for him or if she threatened Crichton. But for now, he would enjoy the binding of this servant to his will.