Wicked
At the beginning they are not very gentle with each other.
They don't look like foreplay. It looks like a battle. They kiss, and every kiss ends up being a bite.
She caresses him with her nails on the chest. She makes them pass too near his scars, those which she herself has given to him.
The bullets' holes are healing, even slowly.
If someone had told me, Skye thinks.
I wouldn't ever believed them. It isn't happening. Not with the Commander's crazy son.
But precisely Lucas's strokes, those of the man who has brought so much death and destruction in her house, are making her moan. His kisses on the neck are making her feel in peace, sheltered. And she answers with passion, even too much, given that she's moving his bandages. She hears him groan in pain.
He raises and lays down on her, he halts her hands on top of her head to avoid other scratches.
"Stop hurting me, Bucket, it still isn't enough?" he whispers in her ear, panting for the effort and excitation.
Actually, he's enjoying himself, it's obvious from the sizeable erection pushing against Skye's thigh.
"I think now it's my turn to hurt you," he says, always whispering in her hear.
Instead, when he lowers to suck her nipples, he's delicate. His tongue's pressure increases and she feels a sudden heat spreading from her stomach. So it was this, the thing they all are about…
Lucas nibbles at her nipples and she envelops his legs with her own, as if she has to keep him in place.
How funny, Skye thinks, it's like someone else is manoeuvring my body. Shit, everyone could enter this room: a nurse, a sentry. We have to stop it now. We have to halt.
But he has already taken off her panties and he's brushing her right there.
It's wonderful.
Skye doesn't have an exact idea of what Lucas is doing to her. Before him there have been only stolen kisses with the garrison's soldiers. Innocent flirtations, to pass the time. Josh Shannon's very clumsy caresses.
But she doesn't stop him and, when he penetrates her, she bites his shoulder in order not to scream. She scratches his back, his shoulders.
She tries to open further her legs to have a little relief, and he's fully in, completely on top of her.
Oh my god.
When he starts moving inside her, that burning sensation and that pressure seem to mitigate.
Not so much, but she begins to feel less pain, a kind of heat and moisture. He kisses her, their tongues entwining. It's almost comforting.
Lucas pushes harder and starts biking her neck, small bites going down her collarbones. Skye doesn't know if she wants it to last forever or to stop immediately, because it's too much to take.
When it ends, he collapses down on her with a moan. She can't say how long it lasted. Two or ten minutes, a year, a century. She feels happy, but also empty and sore, tired as never before. She opens her eyes and look at him.
Lucas is sweaty and has the eyes of a person who, after running miles, has just drunk his first water sip. He kindly kisses the tip of her nose.
"It's my first time, so why are you bleeding?" she says to attenuate the tension. Lucas's bandages are torn up, small rivulets of blood running all over his chest.
He kisses her hair. He feels just like an idiot. But there's nothing simple, or predictable, concerning Skye. Not only he didn't foresee it, but he didn't stop, too. He didn't even think about doing it. It had been too much since he had sex with someone. Years alone, living in that fucking jungle, and I turn into a boor, Lucas thinks with bitterness.
"Are you fine?"
"Of course I am! Beside I just have been in bed with the worst enemy of the Colony, the bogey man used to scare the children" she replies. Now she's not joking anymore.
He makes her place her head on his shoulder and starts talking softly, as to a child who's being told a fairytale.
"When I was alone in the jungle, I felt so abandoned that I fell asleep nearly crying. I thought that in a short while I would have seen my father coming with a squad. They would have taken me back to the Colony. He couldn't really have left me dying there. Not my father. Then, as time went by, I understood no one would have rescued me. I had to do it on my own." he says, brushing her hair.
"Then the Sixers came".
"Yeah… and now you are there," he says, while holding her tighter.
But it's only a moment: she immediately moves away, gets out of the bed and begins to get dressed again.
"I don't think you're worth any kind of deliverance".
"Maybe I'm not. Will you be back tomorrow night?" he asks her, with a hint of anxiety in his voice.
"I won't."
"Don't leave me alone."
It's not a request.
She doesn't reply, she doesn't even turn to watch him, she puts her trousers on and walks away stumbling a little. The night seems very cold to her, compared with the heat she has inside.
The day after she wakes up early, dull and aching.
While she does her shift in the hospital, she asks herself if she's different from the outside. The others will see her in a new light?
Someone could notice? She doesn't feel like an adult. Only very tired and with aches and pains, as after a long run.
But the day easily passes by, until in the middle of the afternoon one of the oldest colonists refuses to be medicated by her, "the Sixers spy".
While steadies the boat, Skye hides in the storage closet to cry. Noone amongst the other apprentices comforts her.
After a long time, the hospital's corridors are deserted.
The sentry in front of Lucas's door is busy courting the only nurse in shift. It seems to work.
Skye is silent as a phantom. Two years passed as a spy helped with something, after all.
She slides into Lucas's room without a creak.
"You're back!"
"There's no deliverance, neither for me, Lucas. Make place."
She curls up on his chest, he holds her and starts kissing her. When he's with her, nothing can touch him. Nothing else seems relevant, even if just for a little while.
They still have a few hours before dawn comes.