by: tlgirl
Rating: R
Category: M/A shipperness (eventually), but it has a lot of Max
Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel . . . don't sue me . . . blah blah blah.
Summary: Max's thoughts and POV post Freak Nation. Forget the Logan-and-Max- latex-gloves-hand-holding-thing. It never happened. Now it's just Max, Alec and the other transgenic in Terminal City. In the beginning of the fic, Max locks herself up in one of the rooms and hasn't come out for days.
Note: I changed the rating for this chapter because of a sex scene. It's not too graphic, I wouldn't exactly call it smut. I didn't plan on writing that scene but it just sort of fit in the story. It's my first attempt to semi-smut so go easy on me.
Note #2: As you know Dark Angel has been cancelled. This is just my small contribution to help keep the show alive in our hearts and in our fiction.
va·ga·ry
n.
a sudden desire.
It took me a while to wipe away my tears and pick myself up.
Step.
Then something clicked inside of me. Like some sense was knocked into me. What the hell was I doing in this stupid room? Why wasn't I outside helping? I felt so guilty, I was the one who got them into this shit and after that, I completely turned my back against them. I allowed my fears to take over me. Not that it's an excuse. Fear should not have gotten in the way of my duties, my responsibilities.
Step.
When Logan, O.C. and Sketchy left Terminal City, I felt ashamed of my own kind. They stood for everything I wanted, everything I couldn't have: love, friendship, and a normal life. And instead of fighting to get back the things I once had, I sat there and felt sorry for myself. I buried my head in my hands and I wept. I never liked to cry. At Manticore, they taught that tears were a sign of weakness, a sign of the humanity inside of us. But after everything, it seemed like the only thing left to do and I let them flow freely.
Step.
I opened the door, bracing myself for the now unfamiliar sunlight, but I was surprised to find the moonlight greet me at the other side of the door. All sense of time had become lost to me. I wandered in between the buildings, trying not to let myself think. Trying to clear my haunting thoughts.
Step.
Before I realized where I was, I knocked softly on the beaten and weather-worn door in front of me.
Step.
He opened the door, a look of shock evident on his face when he realized who his visitor was. A surge of desire ran through me. "Max . . ." he began to say, but I lunged toward him and lay sloppy and violent kisses on his lips. He doesn't resist my advances. On the contrary, he welcomes them and deepens the kisses. I open my mouth inviting him in. I gasp as I take in my first taste of him. Hands begin to roam freely, tearing off the clothing coming between skin to skin contact. Months of sexual tension has finally boiled up to this meeting. We find our way to the bed and an awkward position is found.
Thrust.
Two become one.
Thrust.
Pleasure overwhelms my senses.
Thrust.
Passion and fire rushes through my veins.
Thrust.
Before he pushes me over the edge, I call out his name, "Alec . . ."