Generalia Specialibus non Derogant (Closed)

Apollo Wilde

Literotica Guru
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May 13, 2003
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Debussy’s Prelude À L'Après Midi D'un Faune stretched out its soothing aural tones in the semi-darkened room. Lit by the warm glow of countless suspended globes of light, the light in the room was that of a half-remembered dream. Spacious and airy, it was scented with the long smoke curls of incense. The golden glow was reflected off of myriad white curved surfaces - the room itself was a great round void, instead of the typical square geometric housing. Above them, on the ceiling, was depicted the deep solar beauty of an exploding gold nebula, before melting into the warm violets of the spinning wheel of a galaxy, before circulating again through the tangles of a reddish pink dawn. The scenes would change from one galactic miracle to another, unhurried as the pair in the bed in the center of the room.

Much like the room itself, the bed was a circle, draped in deep violet and gold bedding. From under the tangle of the violet blanket, satin gold sheets were visible, partially obscured by the body laying atop them. As much as the rest of the molded perfection of the room, the body that lay there was sterile in her near perfection. Sculpted brown limbs stretched lazily across the pale gold of the sheets, a hand twisting the fabric, as the other settled on the expanse of a muscular tan back between her legs. The man between her legs tentatively lifted his hands, grasped her breasts with unsure fingers. His movements were clumsy, but the slow movement of his head between her legs seemed to be much more practiced. Indeed, as she sighed in well-deserved pleasure, his hands moved from her breasts to gather around her waist, and eagerly pull her hips into his mouth. His brown hair was tousled, and he pulled his head up for a gasping breath. Even in the dim light, the flush on his cheeks and the glazed expression of lust was clear in his hooded blue eyes. She’d look back at him, slightly indulgent, and ruffle his already mussed hair.

“You’re doing well! Have you been practicing?”

As he lifted his head to respond, he revealed on her body a deep magenta gem embedded right above her mons. In the muted gold light, it seemed to burn with a fire deep within. Before he could speak, she gently bumped her hips back into his mouth. “Stay on target.” From the curve of his eyes, she could tell he was smiling as he lowered his head again. She hissed, softly, at the renewed contact of his tongue against her folds.

Mozart’s Symphony #40 In G Minor, K 550 - Molto Allegro started, and, struggling to free her hand, the woman slapped the intercom button. The woman’s voice that followed perfectly matched the harried sound of the strings. “Regulus, you’re going to be late! We can’t look worse than whatever Dyanmis they picked. Get a move on.”

“Working on it,” sighed Regulus, trying to keep her tone of voice steady. Sotto voice, she angled her head down, spoke lower, “A little more to the left. Do you feel the way the skin bulges around that point? Press your tongue there…..good, good….” Despite her best intentions, her voice shook slightly. In a fuller voice, Regulus said, “All right, Khya, thank you.”

“Tell the young Tiberius that I said ‘Hello’, continued Khya, dryly, before disconnecting.

With a groan, she gently angled her hips away from the young man’s mouth. Taking the hint, he let go of her waist, moving to sit up. Sitting on a rounded “edge” of her bed, his neglected erection twitched slightly, a clear bead of precum collected at the rounded head.

“Lights, 60 percent, please.” The overall ambient light of the room glowed stronger, and rather than the individual globes of light, the entire room brightened to a warm yellow. In this light, it was easier to discern individual features. As lean and as muscular as a ballet dancer, the woman, Regulus, appeared to be in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, un-mussed even by her recent activities. Her breasts were full and sat high on her chest, with little space between them. Marked by deep brown areolas and nipples, she playfully took one of Tiberius’s hands and placed it on her right breast. Encouraged by the action, he squeezed softly, before moving to capture a nipple between his fingertips. She smiled, and leaned into his touch.

With a shy smile of his own, he leaned forward, his blue eyes questioning. Acquiescing to his unspoken request, she leaned forward, covering his lips with her own. Within a few moments, the kiss had noticeably deepened, and even over the soft, resumed strains of Debussy, his soft growl could be heard. Within moments, they had tumbled back onto the bed, him eagerly straddling her, and she, making no attempt to stop him. Clumsily, his hips pressed in between her legs, nudging, rubbing, before one careful thrust brought the fluted head of his cock to nestle just within her. Playfully, she bucked her hips into his, bringing the full length of his cock to bury deeply within her. His face creased into an expression of sheer bliss, and, with a grin, she looked over at the time display neatly shown on the wall.

“I’m sure I can be a little late….”

+++++++++

“A little late” turned out to be two standard hours.

After escorting the very stated Tiberius out of her room, freshly washed and changed -and appreciative beyond his unusual eloquence, which she took as a compliment-, she’d hurried into the bathroom herself, washing the traces of his semen away from her inner thighs and the black tangle of her public hair. If she hurried through the shower, she’d have enough time to dress, give her hair a simple style, and be out the door. If she picked out an elegant enough outfit, she was sure it’d mask her otherwise hurried appeal. And, wiping the steam away from the mirror, she stopped to admire the youthful flush in her cheeks that her multiple orgasms had awarded her. Really, there couldn’t be anything that was much more flattering to her complexion than THAT.

A few swipes of black mascara, a coat of deep pink lip gloss, and a liberal misting of fragrance from the fragrance jet system she’d recently installed (worth every cent and then some - she’d wondered how she’d lived without one), she dashed out of her room in a cloud of sensual fragrance, hastily wrapping herself in a sheer white under suit with gold highlights. Throwing an ornately woven gold and violet tunic over the suit, she selected a heavy gold belt to sit at her waist, and slipped her feet into her favorite gold curled toe slippers. She’d slicked a couple of hairs back into her bun, and topped it off by wrapping a thin gold chain around it.

Dashing out of her room, she ran directly into the nearly apoplectic Khya. Khya was an older woman - olive skinned, dark eyed, and with jet black hair with beautiful streaks of gray at her temples. She was more muscular as Regulus, a physique that suggested either playing tennis or rock climbing. She had long been ready, with a lovely deep maroon gown that brought out the sun-kissed tint of her skin, a heavy garnet necklace and bracelets, and the carnelian earrings that Tir-Anna had bought her for her 90th birthday.

“You know, when Tir-Anna hired me to come over here as your stylist, I don’t think she meant for you to just get dressed in whatever because your last lesson went late,” she clucked, grabbing at Regulus’s arm as she tried to dash past. “We’re going BACK to the bathroom, and BACK to your closet, so I can do what I was paid an astronomical amount of money to do!”

“Oh, come now, Khya, I don’t look that bad, do I?” Regulus offered, with a sheepish grin. She had, after all, thought she looked okay.

“The only thing that’s working for you is that redness in your cheeks. I take it Tiberius is learning well?” Khya asked as she steadily pushed the shorter woman back through the immaculate hallways and to the bedroom.

“He is, he is! I’m quite pleased with his progress. His parents set up his engagement, you know, to that Numidia of the Badari.”

Khya let out a low whistle of appreciation and surprise. “Wow, the Badari really trying to build up on their name, aren’t they?”

“No kidding, right? But the whole thing was almost called off with that little priss decided that Tiberius wasn’t a good enough kisser, like she had the status to even say so! So they all about just dumped the poor boy in my lap and expected me to cram nearly 6 months of lessons into three weeks! The schedule re-arranging alone was a nightmare. I told everyone to take it up with the Sulla Felix.”

“And?” Khya had stripped Regulus of her robe, and was now peeling the woman free of her body suit, “By the way, your thighs look fantastic; glad to see you’re still keeping up with the ballet!”

“And, you know, the Sulla Felix are known for their supreme good-natures so all complaints just vanished. Tiberius is a good boy; he’s eager to please this girl,” Regulus complied by lifting one foot, and then another, to ease out of the body suit, “and thank you! Still not performance level, but I don’t think I ever will be. I started in academia too soon.” Now nude, Regulus sat down on the bench in her bathroom. Like her bedroom, her bathroom was spacious enough to almost to be called a house within itself. It had an “entry room”, meant for brief showers, pre-bathing scrubs, and finishing touches. Done in warm pine, the floor was white marble with veins of lapis lazuli with a drain in the center to allow water to slough off. Pine cabinets held a variety of sheer robes and bathing tools, salts, gels, and oils. As she rearranged herself on the bench, Khya sighed in annoyance as she carefully unzipped her gown to slip on a robe. As she gathered her supplies from the varying cabinets, Regulus watched her, chin in palm.

“So are you telling me, Moderate Historian Regulus, wanted to be a ballerina and not a highly lauded member of the Teaching Council?” Khya knelt in front of Regulus, and began to pumice the woman’s feet.

“Something like that. When I was younger, I thought it would have been a dream come true, even though I started ballet very late. You know I was 14 when I actually started taking the classes? All I did before then was read and paint.”

“So why not a painter?”

“Dancing seemed more glamorous. And I liked how reading didn’t leave you as open to criticism.” Regulus leaned back, her golden eyes moving up towards the ceiling. They weren’t natural, of course - a simple genetic procedure she’d undergone in her late teens. Her eyes, at birth, had been a dark brown. The modification, however, looked surprisingly natural, and many were complimentary towards it. If anything, she was praised for having so few procedures done - just her eyes, and the modification to her skin that made her seem as if she was dusted over with the finest of gold dust under certain light and that was entirely subject to her control. After all, it wouldn’t do to just walk around glowing gold at any given moment. Everything else about her, from the chiseled beauty of her high cheekbones, the elegance of her neck, the fullness of her lips, and the broad curve of her nose were all there by natural genetics - i.e., features of her parents and ancestors before them, perfectly stirred and molded into what was Regulus Deneb of the Al Simak.

Her beauty, in all actuality, would be fairly common among the Aperions - in fact, it was something that wasn’t usually commented on or considered noticeable. If anything, in their society, she was something of a Plain Jane - no direct and jarring modifications (which she personally didn’t agree with), but what she did not have in “looks”, she more than made up for in intelligence and conversation, and had no shortage of lovers that she would have to schedule in between her younger clients.

“Dancers have a short lifespan, though - even now, with all of the physical care that’s available,” murmured Khya as she began to carefully apply a deep purple polish to Regulus’s toes. Pleased by the choice, Regulus suppressed a small grin as she considered Khya’s question.

Khya was one of the best stylists that money could buy - well within the top fifteen in the Aperion Commonwealth, and within the top five of the capital city, Capua. The rumor was that her success relied upon knowing what her customer wanted before they did, and, as Regulus admired the deep amethyst polish, she knew that the reputation was well deserved. Tir-Anna was going to get a spectacular birthday gift. Though, truth be told, she had her suspicious that her doting older sister also hired Khya to make sure that the Al Simak were represented to the best of any society. Anything half-done simply wouldn’t do.

“That’s true, but that’s part of the appeal of them to most people, I think.” Strange - she’d just met Khya about a week ago, and already, she felt as if the woman was as close a confidant as her best student, the erstwhile Augustus. Now there was a young man she’d be sorry to go. Ah well. Part of being a teacher, really…though he had stayed on much longer than the usual requirements, and still had no prospect of a Mated Partner. The rumor was that he had a crush on her and was seeking to potentially increase his ability to force a Mating between the two of them. A charming sentiment, but everyone knew a Mating couldn’t be forced - which is what made the whole Tiberius situation a little odd to her. The Badari were apparently so keen on building up their family name that they were going to force a marriage on people who clearly did not show any Mating potential. Or perhaps they did - Regulus tried to focus less on the details as to what brought her students to her, and more on producing tangible results. Nearly 4 decades in, and she still had yet to receive one bad review.

“Mmmhmm,” and Khya finished with the polish wand, raising a foot to her eye level to make sure that the delicate gold veins that ran through the polish were acceptable. With a nod, she gestured for Regulus to get up. “Hit the bath again while I make an excuse to your mother as to why her daughter is going to be hours late to a banquet held in her honor.”

“Aye aye, ma’am!”

++++++++++++

Luckily for them, the banquet had started with a two hour delay - something about communications with the Dyanmis Collective being offline, or plague by static. So, instead of being multiple hours late, Regulus was merely fashionably late - about 30 to 45 minutes after the proposed start time. Though it may have annoyed the more organized Dyanmis that were there, the few higher Aperions that were in attendance were charmed.

Personally, Regulus was surprised to see the banquet was held in Naqada, a small, country town that sat on the ever changing border of the Aperion Commonwealth and the Dyanmis Collective. Naqada was an hour’s drive outside of Capua, the normally 48 hour long trip magnificently shortened by the bullet train and special provisions made for Regulus. The town, on the outside, could really barely be called a town by Aperion standards - it was a country hub, largely meant for agriculture. For years, it had produced a bountiful harvest for Aperion society, and as such, was always considered an “off-limits” territory for the war. While the Dyanmis Collective may have been hungry for the downfall of the Aperion Collective, they would not go so far as to destroy one of the most fruitful farmlands in enemy territory. And so Naqada was largely left unmolested, its waving fields of grain mingled among orchards spanning for acres.

As Naqada didn’t boast more than the occasional expansive Aperion home, Regulus wasn’t too surprised to find that the banquet was being held at the home of one of the donating politicians, a clever and pity man by the name of Lysander Rus-Inovich, of the Lacedae. At least 200 years old, he kept the appearance of a man in his 50s; that alone was the miracle of the advanced plastic surgeries of the Aperions. Lysander had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and had done much on the UN Spacey council in keeping the war as cool as it was. It’d been years since the last blatant attack (although guerrilla tactics were still common) on any main Aperion city, and his popularity ensured him an office for life. Now, as to where his money came from, it was a well-known secret that he enjoyed sourcing grunt labor to the Baseline population of the Dynamis Collective. While the two sides were outwardly at war, those who could make a dime off of the other still went about business as usual.

Lysander’s home, though, was as Aperion as they came - a masterpiece of Aperion post-modern architecture, with curved angular solar panel roofs, and walls made entirely of windows, offering a 360 view of the rolling fields around them. The right side of the home gave way to a giant swimming pool, in which several other members of high society stood around with glasses and small plates of food within their hands. Round, mute serving robots zoomed at calf level between guests, refreshing glasses and disposing of nibbled food. An Aperion opera singer stood in the corner of the main room, flanked by a small chamber orchestra. The clear dulcet tones cut through even the dull roar of multiple conversations, and at the end of each song, there was a quiet smattering of applause. As twilight was setting in, the main hall was drenched in the rich pink, gold, and violet hues of the sunset. In the far distance, the flickering lights of Capua twinkled at the horizon.

As Regulus entered, it was to the sound of muted applause and raised glasses, and a few muted cries of appreciation. She nodded her head as she entered, giving a small wave now and again to the few familiar faces that she saw. Her mother, Saiph al Jabbar Deneb, was among them, and the older woman rushed over, enveloping Regulus in a massive hug, before pulling away and holding her out at arm’s length.

“My stars, you look wonderful! Khya’s outdone herself!” The family resemblance was in the face - truly, Saiph looked as if she was an older, heavier Regulus, though not by much. Smile lines curved at the older woman’s eyes, and frown lines cut lightly into the skin on either side of the once full lips. Saiph was a woman that one could easily call “handsome” - taller than her daughter, with the light musculature of a swimmer, she was dressed in long robes of royal blue trimmed in star-spangled gold, and a twilight colored gem set between her thick gray eyebrows. Her hair was salt and pepper, and radiated from behind a jeweled headband in kinky waves. She wore no other jewelry, save for rings on each finger and large lapis lazuli earrings. She smelled perpetually of sweets, as one of the woman’s hobbies was baking - something that was considered charming for a scientist of such high standing.

“Come, come, there are many here that want to meet you! But before we make introductions, have you eaten? I’ve made my chiffon cake, you know, the one that you like so well. Don’t worry about being late, I explained the situation to everyone, and all is forgiven for the most part. I will warn you that Dilgan is here and is none too happy about it.” Saiph’s tone changed, darkening a bit at the mention of her other daughter. “But she seems to be getting along well with most of whom she’s spoken to tonight.”

“Dilgan’s always been a good talker,” Regulus said, somewhat distractedly. She had known that her other older sister was going to be there, and no amount of luxurious pampering at the hands of another could ease that stab of pain. Sensing her daughter’s ill ease, Saiph squeezed Regulus’s hand, the cool metal of her rings cutting into the flesh.

“Don’t worry about her - this is a celebration for you! You have exceeded all of our expectations and we’re all so very, very proud of you.” Tears threatened to spill over in the older woman’s eyes, before she quickly wiped away at them. “Tir-Anna sends her love; she wasn’t able to attend. The baby had a learning test today with the Teaching Council.”

Regulus absent-mindedly nodded, reaching for a glass of sparkling champagne from one of the serving robots. Taking a small sip, she looked around, the tanzanite earrings she wore catching the light. Khya had chosen a dark purple figure hugging dress for Regulus that left her arms bare. Although it was an incredibly simple gown, elegant in its design, the designer and fabric material alone meant that the cost ranged in the thousands. If the banquet had been publicized, it surely would have sent the designer’s name to the top of the “Most Wanted” list. The back of the dress scooped low, nearly revealing the top of Regulus’s rear, flattering the dip of her waist and the slow sway of her hips with the loose hanging fabric around the scoop. The front of the dress covered her up high to her throat, the design of curved vines cut carefully to showcase the pale aqua gem that Regulus had embedded in her throat. The one above her mons was covered, but showed faint traces through - enticing to any Aperion who was familiar to the gem classes, and looking like an odd bulge to the few Dyanmis Collective members in attendance.

Her dark brown curly hair had been swept off of her face and neck, pulled back in a bun similar to what she’d worn before, but this time, carefully studded with pale purple gems. The makeup was minimum, black eyeliner to bring out her gold eyes, and a soft neutral lip to allow the shape of her mouth to entice.

“How is the baby doing?” Regulus asked, before allowing herself a small laugh, “You know, I’m going to always call her ‘the baby’ like she doesn’t have a name!”

“You and everyone else! I don’t think the child knows she has a name other than, ‘the baby’.” Saiph reached for a passing plate of hors d’oeuvres, plucking free an ornate vegetable and seafood tart. Taking a small bite, her eyes closed in bliss before she offered it to her daughter, “Lysander’s really gone out of his way for this - I don’t think I’ve had better food at a gathering for scientists. Everything’s completely fresh and not replicated.”

“It couldn’t have been, if you were bringing some of your cakes,” and Regulus took a bite from the proffered tart, before quickly devouring it. “That is good!”

“Keep your manners, child - the Dyanmis Collective is on guard looking for any sort of sloppy behavior,” Saiph said with a sniff. “The few that I’ve seen eat and the few I’ve talked to are absolute boors. You know they have nothing of this finery in that horrid little mud Collective of theirs and they’re doing their best not to let their savagery show in the face of finery. Look at what they’re wearing,” she added, giving a dismissive look to two men talking. Unlike the Aperions present, who were dressed in the finest of clothing, the Dyanmis Collective members could be told by their monochromatic military clothing.

“Moth-eeerrrr,” Regulus stressed, downing the rest of her champagne. “Leave them be. The whole point of the project was to work together.” Looking somewhat abashed by her daughter correcting her, Saiph smiled, and gently took her daughter’s chin in her hand. “You are right, my beauty. Thank you,” and releasing Regulus’s chin, she began to stride purposefully forward. “Let’s get you with some of my cake, and then, we can make the introductions. Your partner from the Dyanmis Collective has been selected, and he is here tonight. Once you two have a chance to meet, Lysander and his counterpart from the Dyanmis Collective will fill in everyone here on the next steps of the Project.”

Regulus allowed herself to be lead to one of the several dining tables, spread with varying dishes and complex floral arrangements. In the center of the largest table, there was a detailed ice sculpture of a young woman surrounded by two swans with outstretched wings. Classy. Artistic enough to please the Aperions, no political statement to offend the Dyanmis Collective. Beneath the woman’s spread hands were the main courses - stuffed turkeys, grilled salmon - anything and everything that anyone, regardless of any sort of dietary restriction, could take part in and still sample at least ten different dishes. To the left were the dessert tables, armed with a dazzling array of cakes, puddings, cookies, ice cream. Saiph took a knife and sliced into a relatively “modest” cake, nearly translucent, and filtered through with rose petals and sprinkled with candied lavender blossoms. Setting the slice down on the immaculate rose print china, she handed it to Regulus.

“Here, my sweet, have this - I’ve got to get back to the Council, but I will meet with you shortly after the announcements,” and off she was, nearly vanishing into the crowd of people. Standing there with the plate in her right hand and a small silver fork in the left, Regulus took a small bite before leaning up against one of the massive window walls, just surveying all that was taking place in front of her. The glass was cool against her back, and soothing. Above the heads of the people, the sky deepened into the first hints of night.

With the sweet floral taste of the cake on her tongue, Regulus slowly savored each bite as she looked around. She knew several of the people there, and extra introductions would not really be necessary. Many, after their initial wave or spoken hellos, had given her room to speak with her mother and to move to the refreshment table. It was well known that Regulus was a teacher - and she would be given space to get her head in the “game” before anyone would start a conversation. While it may have appeared isolating, it was considered the height of courtesy, and something that she was thankful of. The intervention of her mother had helped as well - Saiph was always treated with a sense of awe. It had not been hard to find where her mother had landed in the crowd; her blue robes gave her away, as always, and she was surrounded by several high standing Aperions - and Dilgan was among them.

With a slight shudder, she focused on licking the remnants of the creamy cake away from her lips. As she was in the process of cutting herself another slice (as an adult, she was free to have her sweets before her dinner, thank you very much), loud applause startled her. Quickly cutting her slice free (and making it a much thicker piece than before), she flipped it onto her plate so she could focus on what was happening.

Towards the back of the main room, to the left of the singer and the small orchestra, the floor had morphed into a podium, and old Lysander himself was going up the steps. The applause continued for several minutes, before he held his hands up to still it. He was a brown-skinned man with hawkish features - a thin angular nose, thin lips, sharp eyes that curved up at the corners, and curly brown hair. He cleared his throat, and began to speak. To his credit, he had a soothing sonorous voice that didn’t match his personal appearance - so much the luckier for those that he had to address. The lights dimmed, and a spotlight fell on him.

“Greetings, those of the Aperion Commonwealth and those of the Dyanmis Collective. How is the food? My chefs are asking when they can finally sit down!” A light smattering of polite laughter from the Aperions. Regulus didn’t join them as she was enjoying her second piece of cake. Unlike her parents, she hadn’t inherited a tolerance for bad politician jokes. But the cake was divine and she’d spied some grilled fish in spicy coconut milk that had her name on it, as soon as she finished the cake.

“But please, make yourselves at home. At least for the next hour!” Another smattering of chuckles. “Yes, I am aware that this banquet will be brief; briefer than the likes of what I usually throw. But we are all here under unusual circumstances. Ten years ago, as you all can recall, we started the Consolido Project, hoping to combat the effects of the Watchers, the beings that have come from beyond our planet’s reach. And in those ten years, we have seen many follies, taken many risks, and had many triumphs. It gives me great pleasure to further introduce those who have helped us succeed - our two chosen pilots: Regulus Deneb of the Al Simak - Regulus, where are you? Ah, there you are!”

And a pillar of light focused on Regulus as she hastily finished chewing the bite of cake in her mouth, recovering to look all the lady that her mother had insisted on her being this evening. Deftly, she’d put the plate down on the table in front of her, freeing her hands to wave at the round of applause that greeted her. She’d concentrate now, allowing the gold to rise to her skin level, giving her an ethereal glow.

“Now, as I was saying - Regulus Deneb of the Al Simak, and Caelus Vel Baelsar of the Dyanmis Collective!”

Still under the warm glare of the spotlight, Regulus was aware that she could not crane her neck to see who this other pilot was. So, still standing, with her arms neatly by her side, she waited to see what this man would look like, if she’d walked past him before without so much as a second glance….
 
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The sound of flesh impacting wet flesh resounded sharply off the colorless walls of the small, square room, followed by the occasional grunt and squeaking moan. Drab lighting shone from a small crack running the length of the ceiling, bathing the room in a sullen brownish hue. Confining and Spartan, the room smelled of bleach, barely masking the stale stench of sex. It had seeped into the walls and floor, no amount of flowery cleaner or Prestidigitation magicks could truly get rid of that smell. The furnishings were equally sparse, a small white bed big enough to accommodate one fully grown adult, along with a small night stand and alarm clock. The floor was cold, sterile tile and the only other noticeable features were two doors, each on opposite sides of the room, one leading to a tiny bathroom, the other the rooms only exit. The glaring red numbers of the alarm clock dutifully ticked away as time passed, slow but steady, much like the constant wet slap that came from the two figures upon the bed. The sheets were a clinical white, the single thin pillow had long since been tossed aside to make room for the body clinging to the edge.

The form was all too feminine, having the lovely hourglass figure of a woman in peak physical condition. Her skin was an alabaster hue, fair and unmarred by even a freckle. She knelt over the bed, knees pressed flush against the crumpled mattress, her slender fingers clutching the sheets on the other side as she held herself in place. Her hair was long and platinum blond, even in the heat of the moment it appeared well kept, falling over her slender shoulders and swishing about with each movement she made. Bright, piercing blue eyes remained fixed on the unadorned wall before her. While she had a beautiful face, the expression upon it was severe and downright bored. Occasionally a crackling moan would slip past her fully, bright red lips, otherwise they were pursed together in an annoyed puss.

“...Ahhn...On with it, Jack! What in the Seven Hells are you...Mmhhnf...doing back there?” The woman spat out, her voice jarring with the gasps and moans that fell past each time the sleek hips behind her made contact.

“Do I need to go over the manual with you again, M'Lady?” A dry, husky voice resounded lowly from behind the blond. Jack's hands clung tightly to the natural swell of the woman's hips, keeping her in place upon the bed, allowing him a relatively straight path to thrust his sleek hips forward against the curvature of her backside. Caelus Vel Baelsar was his given name, though he went by the moniker Smilin' Jack, or Jack to most everyone that knew him. He was a tall, five foot eleven inches and had a svelte build, broad shoulders that swept down to a small waist and long, toned legs. He as solidly built despite his sleek appearance, his muscles taut and toned from constant strain, the life of a soldier was anything but forgiving. His skin was pale as well, rarely did he venture forth without some kind of full body military uniform or more often, body armor; Jack rarely had time to sun bath. That pale flesh was lined with numerous scars, many thin and straight, others jagged, thick trails, even the occasional small rounded one or patch where a burn had healed over. The liberal use of ink did much to cover them up though, as Jack had more than his fair share of tattoos. Some were of mystical quality, geometric designs, stylized animals or symbols of divine entities, even runes and sigils. Somewhere just for show, others were imbued with subtle incantations of protection and strength. Others were merely for show, like the smiley face on his right shoulder, its smile ridiculously large and cartoonish, or the thick black words 'Hand Cannon #1 and #2' running down the length of both forearms.

Jack's face was sharp and angular, with a roguishly handsome quality, a strong jaw, aquiline nose (which had been broken several times) and a thin, crooked mouth. His smile was lopsided, tilting to the left, that was when he actually smiled. His hair was black as night, kept short, nearly shaven on the sides and back, with the top long enough to tied back in a small ponytail. The most notable feature was his eyes, which were an intense shade of amber. The shimmered in the light, often appearing to radiate their own in proper settings.

“Dammit, Jack!” The woman cried out in an exacerbated sigh. She redoubled her grip on the bed and shoved herself back against him, forcing their bodies to join with a thunderous clasp of wet flesh.

“Nhhn!” Jack grunted sharply, his pace stuttering as she threw him off for a few moments. “Fuckin' Hells! You know yer not even on the schedule...I'm not even suppose to be here today.” He grumbled but kept his pace dutiful, claiming the blond beauty with a mixture of annoyance and boredom that matched her own. His words were true, despite the two being partners in the Breeding Program set up by the government, they were to follow a very specific schedule that the diviners and apothecaries worked out based on varying things like the woman's menstrual cycle and the phases of the moon. It was all very mind numbingly boring, Jack had made the mistake of asking once and he regretted every moment of it. Jack was a Stud, it was his duty to spread his seed amongst those that were deemed suitable partners, who had the potential to beget offspring of great arcane might. This woman, Lady Millethus, as she preferred to be called, was just one of many women that he was to mate with, ensuring that his precious seed had the potential to reach far and wide. Jack was far from a great wizard, hell, he couldn't read or write till he was in his twenties. He couldn't recite the necessary incantations to cast a spell; don't even start with him on his multiplication tables. But what he did have was something very rare indeed, the ability to cast spells spontaneously. Categorized as a Sorcerer type of Spellcaster, Jack's power came from the blood, they were innate, as much an integral part of him as his nervous system was. He had a very limited repertoire of spells as his disposal though he had the ability to cast them far more times than a wizard of similar strength. His kind were often used as living artillery by the military as the destructive nature of magic flowed rather freely through all Sorcerers. The combination of that innate magical might with the trained precision of a practiced wizard was a truly formidable concept. While all within the Dyanmis Collective were encouraged through government programs to breed and increase the future strength of their arcane might, Sorcerers in particular had it rough.

Jack felt nothing but the vaguest sense of pleasure with each thrust he delivered. It was completely physical, he had no desire for this woman before him. She was beautiful by many standards, the perfect body, hair, eye color, and temperament. Everything the Collective was looking for in a citizen and nothing Jack could appreciate. She was cold, vicious, entitled and egotistical. If it hadn't been for the lotion infused with an aphrodisiac incantation Jack wouldn't have even been able to obtain or keep an erection. It was all mechanical, all purely for duty to Crown and Country, at least from his side. Siring a child meant nothing to him, but to the Mother it could mean a whole new life of privilege and power.

“Aah! Just shut up...and...Gaahn...come already!” Lady Millethus demanded with absolute authority. She had ever right to speak to Jack in such a way, based on the societal structure of their country, she outranked him by far. If anything he should feel privileged to be in this position. Unfortunately Jack didn't quiet see eye to eye. The tone of Lady Millethus' voice sent a ripple of anger up Jack's spine. One hand slid from her hips only to come crashing down on the swell of her backside, eliciting a riotous slap of flesh. The woman gasped in surprise though before she could retort Jack had her by her waist and offered a sharp, angry thrust.

“Yes Ma'am!” He said with a sadistic edge to his voice, his hips drawing back just far enough before he thrust forth yet again, setting a brutally quick pace. The cries carried down the hall.

____________________

Jack hunched over the small sink in the equally small bathroom. He splashed water over his face, wincing at the stinging in his jaw as it hit. He glanced up and tilted his head to the side, admiring the hand shaped red welt across the right side of his face. Her Ladyship had gifted him with a humiliating slap after his brutal assault of her delicate frame, but she had gotten her wish. It stung sure, but Jack had left a mark of equal stature upon her right cheek as well, though at least she could hide that one from view. He wore his own mark with a certain smug pride, sure it was childish but if he could walk away from tonight with at least some form of pleasure Jack could chalk it up to a win. Thankfully Her Ladyship was gone by the time Jack emerged from the closest sized bathroom. She had hurriedly gathered her things, but it seemed in her haste she left something behind. Jack approached the nightstand and snatched up the thick round piece of platnium, the face of Queen long since dead imprinted on the side. Jack felt the cold sting far sharper than he ever would the slap.

“Thanks for the tip,” He muttered, causally flipping the coin in the air and just as easily catching it. Quietly the man gathered his attire and slipped it on before ducking out into the brightly lit hallway. He kept his head low and his eyes on the ground, lest he run into someone who felt like chatting. It happened more often than not, especially in the capital, Vespier, where Jack was all but a national hero. His moniker, Smilin' Jack, was as well known as that handsome face and signature sword he carried with him. It was all nonsense, anyone who bothered to ask how Jack felt about it would get an ear full. He was a soldier, not much better than a paid killer, but at least he could claim he was doing it for his country. Not that he ever did, to Jack life had always been war and strife. He grew up hard and fast on the streets as a youth and had known nothing but military service since shortly after puberty. He had done horrible things in guise of peace, protecting his countrymen from the vile and degenerate Aperions. Of course, they had done equally if not worst things during the course of war, that's just how those things worked. The Dyanmis Collective did have one powerful tool to combat the always encroaching tide of disloyalty and infighting: Propaganda. They had learned early on how to control the masses through words and the media. Jack had unfortunately become another cog in the Propaganda Engine, stirring the hearts and minds of his people through his brave and courageous acts. Sure, many of events he was famous for happened, Jack risked life and limb for his country, for his fellow soldiers and their safety. But for every good deed he did there were five more atrocities that were covered up and smoothed over. Keep on smiling and saluting. How many times did he hear that daily?

Even with his head bowed he felt the stares of the people he passed. Maybe it was the bright red palm print across his jaw, or the general upkempt nature that drew their attention, either way it was enough to cause Jack to quicken his step. Jack hurried to his bunk and looked forward to losing himself in the abyss of sleep for a few hours before having to start the whole game all over again in the morning. The look of surprise on his face was priceless when the door swished open and he found a portly man in red robes sitting at the foot of his cot, fiddling with a small slender tablet in his grasp. Causally he looked up at Jack as if he had barged in on him sitting at his desk.

“Ah. There you are. I was beginning to wonder what happened to you. Having a little too much fun with Lady Mellthus?” The jovial tone went all too well with the man's aging persona. He was squat and balding, with a double chin his thick goatee could barely cover. He wore a confident smile and held himself with a great sense of dignity, though Jack could see the hint of green in his small, dark eyes.

“Uh. Your...Governship...?” Jack stumbled in his greeting, unsure of how to address the man. He wasn't even sure Governship was a word, though it didn't seem to matter much. Gideon Levesque had been a promising wizard in his youth, though he found he wielded far more impressive skills in the arena of diplomacy. His magical strength was nothing to sneeze at, but the old Dyanmis was known more for being a diplomat and construct engineer than for his spellcraft. Jack knew enough about him to recognize his fat face on sight, he was something up a big-wig in the Capital and beyond. One of the forerunners of the peace treaties that had brought the war to an official end, or at least kept it off public airwaves. That was about all Jack knew about him, other than having his fingers in numerous pies, both governmental and public. He owned several businesses, both magical and mundane and if the rumors were true bought himself the title of Governor. Jack couldn't recall which state he was the Governor of, there were too many of them to count or at least remember all their names. Besides, they changed regularly to suit the taste of The Collective. Gideon chuckled and hoisted himself off the cot, smoothing out his robes with one hand before he finally turned to face Jack fully.

“Your face says it all. She has a mighty fine back swing, I have to say. But that isn't why I'm here, son.” Gideon began, his attention diverting to the tablet in his grasp momentarily. Jack straightened his shoulders and took a step inside, allowing the door to close behind him. He causally rubbed at his cheek and jawline, ruffling the scruff of hair there.

“I'd hope not,” Jack said lightly, his hand sliding up through his hair before settling on the back of his head. “What can I do you for, Lord...Sir...uh...Gov-”

“Gideon is fine,” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I don't need you to blow smoke up my ass, my boy. I know it isn't your style to play the game. That's why I'm here now. We need someone like you, someone who thinks outside the box. Someone who isn't afraid of getting things done even if they get a little dirty.”

Jack scrunched up his brow and took a deep breath, only to let it out in a slow, gentle sigh. He knew where this was going but it didn't matter much. He just stood there and listened, trying to look like he was paying attention when all he really wanted was to scrub off the stench of sex from his crotch and go to sleep.

“How would you like to save the world, son?” Gideon asked with all sincerity. Jack tilted his head a fraction of a degree to the side, his brow still quirked and his lips pursed slightly. He took only a moment to contemplate his answer before he shrugged his broad shoulders and shook his head.

“Sorry, Boss. I think I'll pass,” He said with his customary gratting sarcasm. It didn't seem to faze Gideon one bit; his smile didn't waver even in the slightest. It wasn't like Jack had a choice.


___________________


“As you can see. Revenant Vel Baelsar has surpassed all expectations. Not only was he able to sync with the Fire Elemental of the E-GMB, a feat few others have been able to accomplish, he was able to master control of the construct and push it to the very limits. As you will see the demonstration, the E-GMB Mark 12 was able to neutralize fifteen targets in less than sixty seconds...”

Jack listened only vaguely listened to the feminine voice prattle on about his battle prowess. The other figures resting comfortably in the back of the limousine were all too eager to listen though, all eyes were upon the small screen embedded in the side of the left wall, which displayed the E-GMB in all its glory. As Military Class Golem Battesuits went, it was top of the line. This particular unit, the Efreet class, was modeled after the ancient demons of yore. The head was a mixture of ram and wolf, all fury and curled horns, black teeth and smoldering pools of magma for eyes. The rest of its body was thin and wiry, hunched over on all fours with exaggerated claws of pure adamantine. They could tear through the thickest of armors, a truly devastating close combat unit. But wait, there was more! It boasted the finest long range military weaponry Dyanmis could offer. Bolts of hellfire, clusters of mini-fireballs and thrusters that could assist with tremendous leaps (and could inflict damage all their own), The E-GMB had it all. That would have been it impressive in its own right, but it was what was on the inside that made it exceptional. The technology was still in development, or so they told him. Jack didn't know the specifics; all he knew was that it melded the pilots mind with the mind of the bound elemental within the construct. All Golems had an elemental bound to them, typically from one of the four basic elements, Air, Water, Fire, and Earth. The most commonly used Elemental was Earth for terrestial units and Air for airborne ones. Both were relatively easy to control, any pilot who train to exert their will over the bound Elemental. Fire Elementals were notoriously dangerous to use and thus far had never been bound to a Battlesuit. The E-GMB was the first ever successful Unit to do that, thanks in large part to the Sync Technology.

It was dangerous to attempt, those with weak wills would find themselves consumed by the wrath of the bound elemental. Even hardened veterans had great difficulty syncing with them to an acceptable level. Jack proved the exception, not only did he sync with the Fire Elemental in his suit, he managed to work side by side with the creature. Together they achieved things none of the engineers had thought possible. That in itself singled him out for joining the Consolido Project. Not that he had much to say about it. The decision had been made for him, sure they had given him reasons for going along without complaint, but he hadn't been listening. It was his duty after all. Maybe after this they'd put him on a box of breakfast ceral.

“Smilin' Jack-O's. Or Jackholes,” Jack muttered to himself as he stared lazily out the tinted window, watching the sun set behind the twinkling lights of Capua far off in the distance. They had arrived in Naqada via teleportation magicks. Rarely was such powerful magicks used so causally, but tonight was a big night, or so everyone kept telling Jack. Everyone included his now dear ‘friend’ Gideon, who wouldn’t stop calling him ‘son’ or ‘boy’ at the end of every sentence, several high standing military commanders he had only known by name, and a few more politicians whose names he didn’t bother to remember. All in all, the back of the black limousine was a little packed, at least for Jack’s taste. He was use to doing this his own way and more often than not by himself. Jack rarely took part in operations with more than a handful of other operatives, usually well trained soldiers who knew what they were doing. Stuffed in this tin can with this many civilians and top brass, forced to wear this ridiculous uniform, it was all becoming too much. They even made him shave! His strong jaw was clean and clear of stubble, which felt disturbing smooth and cool. The conversation wasn’t much help either, it all revolved around him and what he achieved with the Battlesuit, the sync technology and how it applied to this Consolido Project. None seemed to care that Jack was the least informed of the group, they all busily chattered the entire way to the house. House wasn’t exactly the word that Jack would have used to describe the place though. As the car came to a stop and they began to pile out he had to stop and marvel at the sheer audacity of the architecture. Never before had Jack been this close to Aperion civilization, the most he had seen of their engineering and architecture was their military bases and mechs. This thing, he really wasn’t sure what to make of it. Everything about the building seemed wrong, it was just a really bad spot, so out in the open, the entire thing looked like it was made of glass! A poorly trained sniper could have a field day picking off targets one by one. He had to make another stop at the pool to just stand there and gawk, even giving a ridiculous chuckle.

“These people,” He muttered, shaking his head briefly before he turned to join the remainder of his group. They made an entrance together; Jack was only briefly given respite before the introductions started. His uniform didn’t allow him to stand out much his contemporaries, the sleek one piece uniform was utilitarian, despite its monochrome coloration it was functional. The black and red coloration did give him a sleeker appearance than normal, but the bulky medals on his chest still threw him off. Jack had won ever commendation and award there was to offer, he felt like he easily had twenty pounds of precious metal strapped to his chest, enough to melt them all down and make a breastplate out of it. The only thing that gave him any ease at all was the sword at his side. Like most of the other military brass, Jack had a single blade sheathed at this side. While many of them were expensive but common swords, his was an exact replica of the fierce blade he wielded in battle. With a dull edge and lacking any magical power, the sword was an expensive and impressive piece of craftsmanship in its own right. The pommel and crossguard were polished silver, gleaming brightly in the flickering lights, the vague hints of draconic shapes visible upon its surface. The handle was wrapped in what appeared to be black leather, though unlike its true counterpart this one wasn’t worn with use and stained from sweat. The weight and pressure at his side was a constant reminder, a constant assurance that things would be alright. It was a welcome sensation, as close to a reassuring feeling as he would get tonight.

He lost count how many hands he had to shake, how many times he repeated the odd sounding names of Aperions and Dyanmis alike. For a man who spent most of his adult life out in the field, staring down the sights of his gun at these weird creatures, shaking their hands, smiling and eating their tiny foods and making small talk was just…well…incredibly fucking weird. Still, despite the awkwardness of trying to stand and hold the small plate he was given and the finger foods, all while trying to not drop a crumb was proving too much for Jack to bear. He would face any enemy with a grin, once he even faced a AC47F Vanguard Battlesuit, Aperion technology at its finest, with nothing but his magic and a smile. He walked away from that, though barely; he wasn’t so sure about tonight.

Eventually, after what felt like several years of hard labor, Jack managed to excuse himself from the crowd. He ducked out of the spot light quickly, making his way towards the tables and their impressive rows of delicious smelling foods. There was so much laid out he was sure most of it was going to be tossed out, it was simply too much for so few people. Still, he wasn’t going to let it go to waste without sampling pretty much everything. He had no tact when it came to eating, rarely did he have time to refine his table manners out in the field. Jack piled in all on his plate, slices of stuff turkey atop a sliver of salmon, next to what he thought was mashed potatoes and several other delicacies he had no clue what they were. It didn’t matter much, not with the amount of gravy he poured over the top of it. Taste rarely mattered, the military rations he was use to consuming lacked any real flavor, he was convinced that they actually rendered his tastebuds useless just so he would stop complaining about them. He didn’t bother with a knife, most of what was on his plate was so tender that a fork sufficed with tearing it apart. Thus the Dyanmis ate like a starving homeless man, stuffing forkful after forkful into his open maw, chewing with his mouth open and genuinely offending anyone who crossed his path, Dyanmis and Aperion alike. He started to wander them, letting his amber gaze take in the party finally, along with its guests. The dresses the Aperion women were so impractical it almost hurt to look at them, but, he couldn’t deny that they did bring out the feminine shape nicely.

“Wonder if that’s real or genetically modified,” Jack thought as he intently stared down the derriere of one particularly tempting looking female. He chewed thoughtfully as she passed, oblivious to the world around him for a few short moments. Once she was out of view he managed to shake himself free and back to reality. By then he was standing beside the ice sculpture, something he had never actually seen before. It was odd, to waste so much ice like that, just to sit out here on a table and melt away. He scoffed at the idea, which sounded more like a choking grunt with his mouthful. Slowly he set his plate aside and leaned in to examine the sculpture a bit more. He missed the dimming of the lights, though the loud voice welcoming everyone mildly caught his attention. He looked up to see an Aperion trying to make with the jokes on stage, alongside him was his old friend Gideon, who was all smiles and forced laughter. It all felt like more banter to him so his attention turned back to the sculpture. Like a small child he couldn’t help but reach out and touch it, his fingertips gliding over the slick, cool surface. He traced the outline of the woman’s right arm, gliding down over her hand just as the spotlight appeared over head. Jack flinched, his hand tightening and with a single squeeze snapped the sculptured hand off at the wrist. He cringed outwardly, his hand tightening into a fist to keep the hunk of ice from slipping away. He went rigid, taking to a militaristic stance and tried to appear as humble and sophisticated as a man with mashed potatoes and stuffing on his face could. His amber gaze easily found the other spotlight and the all too feminine frame outlined beneath it.

“Damn,” He muttered lightly, why’d it have to be a woman?
 
Stars, how long are they planning on keeping this spotlight on me?

Regulus’s smile hadn’t faltered an inch; it glided easily across her face as she offered a polite wave to the few Aperions that had waved at her. With some derision, she noted that the Dyanmis Collective members seemed to either be glaring at her, or staring at her with a strange combination of desire and hatred. Huh. Well. You’d think that they’d be impressed enough by the food; she’d heard stories of the scarcity of supplies within the Collective.

“Come, come, Regulus, Caelus. Come stand beside me.” Lysander was making a grand gesture now, waving his elegant hands aloft. With an internal sigh, Regulus straightened her posture even further, and held her head up high, adopting the regal tilt of her chin she’d seen her mother don at every award ceremony. Apparently it suited her well - the faint smattering of applause rose in a crescendo as she approached the podium. She’d let her eyes drift from the podium only for a moment to see the man who would be approaching on the opposite side.

Yowza.

True, Regulus was not a stranger to a handsome man. Aperion society was FILLED with them - and they came as in as many varieties as the food laid out on the tables. For whatever she had craved for one day, she could easily find a man that matched the description, and then be on to his polar opposite the next day. And the same could be same for the Aperion women; the few in attendance were all beautiful beyond the speed of light, perfection in every shape and size that they came in. But this? This was something different. Flawed. A cracked piece of crystal made all the more beautiful for the cracks that ran through it. Already, she imagined what the raised flesh of his scars would feel like under her lips. It was an idle enough thought, though, and one that was quickly brushed aside as she moved to stand next to Lysander on his right, Caelus on his left.

Lsyander, ever the consummate politician, did not touch either one of them, but held his hands out behind them, framing the two together.

“With these pilots rest the hope of survival, of reconciliation between our people. The hope of a brand new future that reaches far beyond either Dyanmis or Aperion, and into the stars above us! For all of those involved in the Project, we will continue formally tomorrow. But for tonight, let us all dine with the hope of the future, and forget the baleful eye of the Watchers. Tonight, we are celebrating the dawn of a new day!”

His speech ended, the applause rattled the podium, and his unnaturally smooth face lit up in a million watt smile. The podium began a gentle “dissolve” back into the floor, setting the two new pilots down. It must have been the signal for the events to start winding down as well, for both Dyanmis Collective members and those of the Aperion Commonwealth began filing out, waves of people in either elegant night attire or formal military wear walked uncomfortably side by side, each trying to avoid the other. The low hum of the cleaning robots seemed louder, unfettered by the din of the partygoers around them. One robot, pausing for a moment in front of the ice sculpture, made a noise quite similar to a clucking tongue before it began to clean up the food.

Without the hum of the crowd, the house seemed to have tripled in size, tripled in how ominous it now seemed. Night had fallen, and the sky surrounding them was a deep black, pinpricked by constellations. They were far enough outside of the city so that the light pollution there did not filter into the skies here. In the far distance, Capua still glittered and gleamed, a far away bauble. The lighting in the main room dimmed appropriately, taking the white hot glare of the spotlight down to the buttery yellow reminiscent of a paper lantern. Visibly relaxing under the softer light, Regulus let out a long sigh. She supposed her mother left with the other Aperions - the fact that she’d done so without saying good bye didn’t surprise her. It was common for her mother to come and go without excessive shows of affection, or even those of acknowledgement. She was, however, somewhat pleased that her mother had at least made something out of her gown and how she looked. Smoothing down the front of her dress, her expression turned a little wistful. She’d wished that her father had been able to make it, or even one of her brothers - someone that she was closer to to share the moment with. Oh well. There would be time to see them later and to catch up.

The last few weeks had been preparation for this day. The last of the tests, the barrage of physical and mental tests. It was an arena where the name of “Al Simak” carried weight, but not enough for her to merely skirt through because of the genetic luck of the draw. She’d worked hard, been pushed to her limits. The banquet was nice; meant to be a breather for the both of them - although she wondered if the Dyanmis had been run through the same litany of tests. Doubtful. Their society was different. The details of how different, though, she didn’t know - it wasn’t covered. She had been immersed in the scientific advances made by the project, largely because of Dilgan’s work. She’d seen the broken pilots, men and women, escorted out of the testing rooms, either on stretchers or in body bags. And, when she thought she was going to reach her breaking point, suddenly she had the week off. Then this banquet. And as much as she had enjoyed the food and getting that much of a closer look at the Dyanmis, she had a sinking feeling that things were about to get much, much harder….And, as much as she didn’t want to admit, she was totally in the dark about what was going to happen next. That week off that she had was filled with appointments with her students, her mother and sister pushing her to get all of her affairs in order at her home.

Before either pilot could step away, Lysander took Regulus’s and Caelus’s hand in his, pressing the two together under the grasp of his. “During the time of the Project Tests, you two will be staying here in my home. You will have every need attended to, and your schedules will be planned out for you-”

“And my students?” butted in Regulus, doing her best to keep her voice calm. “Young Tiberius has two sessions left before-” Her hand unconsciously gripped Caelus’s. Realizing, just that quickly, what she’d done, she slipped her hand away from the grasp of the two men. For the smallest fraction of a moment in time, she looked up at Caelus, her golden eyes locking onto his, and gave him a small, trick of the light sheepish smile before turning her attention and rearranging her face back into that of a lauded Aperion.

“Yes, yes, my dear, your students will be allowed here. However,” and he had let go of Caelus’s hand, moving closer to speak quietly to Regulus, “You have to understand, these Dyanmis Collective folk do not understand how our society works. As you and he will be having incredibly close quarters, I suggest that you finish with your current students and adjust your focus appropriately.” He gave the bare skin of her back a pat, and, speaking again, raised his voice so Caelus could hear, “You’ll forgive me, Sir Caelus.” If it was the proper honorific to use, Lysander didn’t seem to know, or, really, to particularly care too much, “Just some last minute Aperion conversation, nothing to concern yourself with. As you two will be sharing the same quarters, you both will have a crash course in how the other lives,” and he gave them both a smile.
“I do apologize for the two of you having been kept in the dark. It was agreed that upon you both starting to live here that we would do as little to tax you during the adjustment period.” Lysander gestured for the both of them to follow him.

From the spacious main room, he lead them down a winding corridor, the right side made completely of glass. On the right side of the house, the pool shone, aquamarine glass illuminated from within. On the white wall to their left, the occasional bit of modern art broke up the monotony. “As my little country home here,” and he had a wry, self-deprecating grin - there was nothing ‘little’ about this home, clearly- “happens to be so close on the border and intimate enough for the two of you, it was decided that this would be your place to stay-”

“But my things-” Regulus again started. She was doing her best to control her anger, but sharpness leaked into her question.

“Have already been moved here. We worked with Dyanmis tele porters to get them here. Fascinating, fascinating thing to witness, I assure you! But everything that you will need to live and maintain a normal life will be here.” As the corridor wound down to a stop in front of a silver door, he stifled a large, very false, yawn. “Now, if you will excuse me, my dear, I have to leave for the night. We will be here midday in order to explain the rest of the process and what is to be expected from the two of you moving forward. You two will be sharing this room.” Next to the silver door was a black panel. Flipping it open, he keyed in a quick code, and the silver door slid open with a muted hiss. “I just had this place finished earlier this morning, so do let me know if it gives you any problems. The code is fairly simple - 3205.”

Easily, the room dwarfed the size of Regulus’s more than ample bedroom - in fact, hers would be considered quite modest in comparison. Like the rest of the home, it was a sharp rectangle, running to sharp angles and tight corners. Directly in front of them was the window wall, opening up to the back of the house. Even in the darkness, rolling hills and the tangle of an orchard could be seen. Against the wall to their left was the bed, flanked by two elegant silver lamps and bureaus. To the right, the room dipped into the bathroom, hidden from their eyes. If Regulus was startled by the single bed, her expression didn’t show it. Instead, there was muted anger. Inside, she was infuriated. All of her things moved without her permission was bad enough, but the fact that she had been kept in the dark about it, under the facade of giving her a ‘break’ was enough to make her want to scream.

It was not a good way to start the Project.

“I’ve had two rooms converted into one to give the two of you more than enough room. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” and he bid a hasty retreat, nearly shoving the two of them into the room as the door swished shut behind them.

“Awkward” didn’t begin to describe it. As if waking up from a dream, she turned to really get a good look at Caelus. Pulling herself together, her mouth quirked in a cold, but not condescending smile as she offered her hand. “Let this be our formal introduction - I am Regulus Deneb of the Al Simak.” Her eyes, again, settled on his, searching him, trying to figure him out. If he was expecting her to treat him like trash, he had another thing coming to him. From where she was standing, he appeared as any other male - but deliciously different. She would be very….keen on getting to know him further. And starting off by looking down her nose at him wouldn’t be the way to work things out.
That would be, perhaps, another reason why Regulus was chosen for the Project. Yes, her passing the barrage of tests had something to do with it, but the fact was that even in the midst of war, her father’s training had taken hold. She firmly believed in the cult of the Individual - and there was no such thing as demonizing an entire race of people because of the actions of a few. She’d seen the refugees, of all walks of life, had looked into their eyes and seen the same despair. Would this change knowing his station in life? Perhaps. At this point, all she knew of him was his name - and how she felt towards him. Intrigue, yes. Desire was there as well. But largely Curiosity was winning out.

But nothing could happen until they were introduced.
 
Jack had the decency to wipe the crust of his meal from his mouth before approaching the podium. If anyone was looking at him, applauding, glaring, or otherwise, he didn’t take notice. If anything his eyes were still transfixed upon the woman, this Regulus, who approached the podium from the opposite side of the room. He felt the sharp knot of apprehension digging around inside his gut at the very sight. Not only was she Aperion, she was also a woman, and a very, very attractive one. Rarely did Jack have the opportunity to think of women as more than just breeding partners, he really didn’t get out much beyond his military role. He had no social life to speak of; his only true interactions with the opposite sex had been comrades in arms or breeding partners. The mixture of feelings that welled up inside of him was an unpleasant experience and the full contents of his stomach weren’t helping things much at all. Still, he approached the podium in the poised, albeit somewhat stiff manner that was expected of him. If anyone looked out of place on that podium it was Smilin’ Jack.

Despite trying to appear calm and collected, he gave off more of a long tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs vibe. He stood stiffly, awkwardly moving his arms from his sides in either direction, unsure of what to do with his hands entirely. He tried to appear to be paying attention to what the Aperion was saying, though he caught glances of Gideon and other’s nearby, who were doing their best to smile at the elegant words, though their glowers pointed in Jack’s direction were undeniable. Thankfully, the Aperion Spokesmen didn’t prattle on for too long, otherwise Jack might start staring again Regulus; she was the type that a passing glance just wasn’t good enough. He’d have to take a good hard look at her, maybe all around, to get any real sense of what was going on. Little did he know he would get that opportunity in more ways than one.

The crowd began to file out after the thunderous applause, the stillness of the large, now mostly empty room was palpable. The silence was deafening, especially to ears that were use to the constant goings on of military life. Explosions were a constant noise in Jack’s life, the ringing in his ears was evidence of that much at least. The fact that the rest of his Dyanmis comrades left him to stand on the stage awkwardly slowly began to dawn on Jack, but it was too late to do anything about it. By the time he snapped out of his little daze, his hand was snatched up and shoved into another’s. He turned to find that it was none other than Regulus…something or other. Her full name was a novel, not that his given name was any better. Jack took the hand as delicately as he could, though the callouses on his palms felt prickly and rough compared to her smooth, perfect skin. He listened intently, or so he thought. The sentence took a few moments in and by the time Jack even began to scrunch his brow up confusion she was going on about students.

“Wait…Did you say…your home?” Jack began, though neither one of them seemed to be paying attention to him one bit. The male had moved closer, leaning in and speaking in conspiratorial whispers. Jack glowered from his place nearby, one brow arching up as Lysander finally turned back to him.

“Jack.” He said, giving the man a rather contemptuous glare as he addressed him with the incorrect honorific. Jack was no knight, only the devote men (and some women) of the holy church of Thirteen could use that title. “Just Jack.” He insisted, keeping that glare on his face as he was greeted with a smile. It didn’t seem to matter much; it felt like a one-sided conversation. They could have just as well been talking to one of the cleaning robots for all Jack was concerned. Still, he followed, his arms folded over his chest as he trailed behind the two. The further they ventured into the house the more Jack was starting to dislike this all. None of the details had been given to them, it was obviously on a need to know basis and neither of the pilots apparently needed to know squat. Jack’s glare turned into a twisted grimace, as if he had gotten a whiff of something truly horrendous. He knew better than to complain about it, it wasn’t his place to ask questions. The woman though, she felt the need to question the other rather sharply. Jack felt the anger in her tone, which in itself made Jack a little angry. She had a statement for everything, all revolving around her. Her students, her things. It went along with the picture Jack already had drawn up in his head about Aperion’s.

It didn’t matter much, not as they were ushered into another part of the home, another door opened and a room the size of a football field lay before them. It might be a little bit of an exaggeration, but to Jack the size was just dumbfounding. Lysander took the opportunity to make a speedy get away, Jack didn’t bother to try to stop him. Instead he slowly passed the threshold, his amber gaze wide and the look of confusion and awe clearly etched upon his handsome face. He said nothing at first, though his lips slowly began to part, only to have a scoffing huff of laughter escape them. By the time he turned about towards the door, he found himself coming face to face with Regulus once more. She wore a smile, something that seemed quiet odd at the moment. He looked down at the hand she offered, listened to her ‘formal’ introduction and proceeded to overwhelm Jack with her name. He laughed again, an absurd little huff as his gaze drifted over her slowly.

“Is that your title? What is an Al Simak?” He asked pointedly, even as he reached out to take her hand sharply. His grip was sure and strong, a firm handshake that was ruined only by his own accord. Instead of just shaking her hand, Jack curled his middle finger in as he reached for her hand, only to wiggle it against her palm as they shook. His grin, an infectious and uncaring smile, slanted to the right, drifted out over his features all too easily.

“Smilin’ Jack, at yer service. Regulus..De-uh…Can I just call you Reggie? You can call me just Jack. Well, Jack. Not just in front of it. That would sound kinda stupid.” He gave her hand a firm pump before releasing it, his gaze sweeping from her to take in the sight of the room once more.

“Can you believe this shit? You could station a whole platoon of GBM’s in here and still have room for a platoon. I wonder if they left some booze around here. The last thing I need right now is to face the rest of this night sober,” His words were nonchalantly spoken. If he caught the desire in her eyes, hell, even the curiosity, Jack made no mention of it. He was oblivious to the subtleties of women, more so than the most egotistical of males. Slowly the tall Dyanmis wandered about the room, stretching out his arms as wide as they could go as he wandered about. Slowly he spun on the ball of his left foot, laughing absurdly again before he went in search of alcohol. About halfway through the room he lost interested, or at least got distracted by the room itself once more. He started to unbuckle his sword belt when he noticed something that peaked his confusion once more.

“Where’s the sword rack?” He asked aloud, his attention drawing towards the nearby hearth and then to Regulus herself. It was a simple, logical question; something that was very common in Dynamis households. Many men and women still carried melee weapons such as swords and spears. Somewhere status symbols, badges of honor but more often than not they were potent magical weapons. Hanging them on the wall or above the mental was akin to placing ones coat on a coat rack.
 
As soon as he’d trundled the two of them off into the room, Lysander immediately went to a wash room. Running the water as hot as he could stand, he began to scrub at his hands, turning the brown skin scarlet. It wasn’t the fact that he’d touched Regulus – meeting a woman of her standing would be an honor, even under less dire circumstances. Even if she did have that horrible habit of humanizing everyone. Must’ve gotten it from her bleeding heart father. No, it was the close contact with that roughneck, that “Jack.” Disgusting. Not bad enough that he was a Dyanmis, but a soldier at that. Aperions rarely had contact with anyone in the battle, preferring to create machines to do their fighting for them. What was the point of developing so much magnificent science only to actually put a person in charge of it? Silly, silly thing.

When his hands were dry and chaffed from the water, he turned it off, slowly toweling his hands dry. As he finished, he looked at the scrap of fabric with distain – and promptly dropped it into an incineration bin. He took a minute to study his reflection in the mirror. Wrinkles were starting to form in the creaseless skin around his eyes. Leaning all the closer, he raised one eyebrow and then the other, surveying the damage. The last injection appeared to be fading. If that wasn’t a sign of the stress he was under, he wasn’t sure what else would show it. He went from having treatments once a year to once every six months, and now, he was inching closer to the once a month line. Trying his best not to frown (and thereby increase the damage), he walked out of the bathroom, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Though the party at his home was over, his work was just beginning. The handlers had to be brought in, settled into their quarters, introduced to the pilots. There was more discussion to be had with the Project Members, the scientists, the financial backers. That Gideon of the Dyanmis, that was someone he could almost respect. Almost. And seeing the teleportation magic had been fascinating. It was different from the Aperion Quick Transfer – smoother. There didn’t seem to be a high causality rate with developing it, either. It’d taken a few years to get the technology smoothed out on the Aperion side; many preferred not to take the risk. However, in recent years, it had been considered fashionable to do things the “Uncultured Way” – which meant instead of taking instant transports, more were opting to use manual vehicles to get around. Maybe the idea was to savor the experience.

He’d never understand people.

++++++

Regulus watched as her new partner explored the room, her smile growing from formal to genuine. She was tickled by his reaction – some part of her was thankful. She’d taken so much for granted growing up. Even his butchering of her name didn’t cause the truthful nature of her smile to falter. Instead, she actually laughed. And really laughed. It wasn’t the carefully, classy controlled titter that he’d heard in the main room. It was a deep, startlingly loud guffaw, raucous in the quiet of the room. “Al-Simak is my ancestral name,” she said, between chuckles, stopping to catch her breath, “Gods. It’s been so long since someone asked me that. Not since I helped out with those Dyanmis refugees a few years back.”

It’d taken some control for her to not instantly jerk her hand away when he tickled her palm, but it was more out of surprise than disgust. She had enjoyed the closer contact. Instead, she had merely gripped his hand a bit tighter, and gently pulled him closer to her with surprising strength. She’d step forward, closing the gap so that they were mere inches apart, so close that he could see the tears of laughter collected in her eyelashes. Mmm. What a delectable looking man. Still holding onto his hand (or rather, not letting go), she helped herself – she ran her left hand through his hair, down the side of his face, still keeping her eyes on his, mirth still within hers. Settling her hand firmly on his chin, she spoke again. “The naming conventions work a bit differently here. Here, I’ll explain. Given name, family name, ancestral name - if you have one. My given name is Regulus. My family name is Deneb. My ancestral name is Al-Simak. And no, you may not call me ‘Reggie’,” she added, with a feigned sniff. She got the impression that she might as well get used to the nickname; he just seemed that…type.

"You can, however, call me ‘Lus’, if that’s easier for you than ‘Regulus.’ Although I’m sure if you practiced using that tongue of yours, it shouldn’t be all too difficult in the future. If you’d like, I can teach you.” Her fingers trailed from his chin to his lips, before dropping away entirely. She chuckled again at her own joke – not that she’d expect him to get it. Satisfied –momentarily- with her closer look, she let go of his hand, leaving him to explore the room. “We Aperions don’t usually have nicknames outside of family groups. I’d take care with randomly assigning such diminutives to everyone you meet. You might end up in a rather unpleasant situation. ‘Lus’ is what my family calls me.”

Gracefully, she slunk past him to sit down on the corner of the bed. Crossing her legs in a fluid motion, she leaned down, unfastening the strap of one of her high heeled sandals. She carelessly tossed one heel, and then another, onto the floor, stretching her legs out. Digging her toes into the rich carpet, she sighed in pleasure. Of course Lysander hadn’t skimped on luxuries even out here – the floor instantly adjusted itself to her ideal temperature.

“Yes, Lysander did go out of his way – this room is larger than even my own. Although I’m not sure about keeping an army in here. I’m sure they’d do a number on the carpet, which would be a shame. Pretty sure this is 100% pure fur; not even replicated.” She let out a low whistle. The fact that even she, a Aperion, could recognize that this was luxury beyond reason should have left an impact. “Lysander’s a cheap bastard with everyone but himself. His districts suffer,” she grunted softly as she reached behind her, struggling with the clasp of her dress. “But you don’t care about any of that, I presume.” Another laugh, more of a scoffing one. Not that she would expect him to care about Aperion politics and ethics – even though they could directly affect his life. Unzipping herself, she let out a soft sigh as the top of the dress loosened. Working her arms through the fabric, she peeled off the top half of the dress, leaving her in a rich wine red strapless bra. Scratching liberally at where the band cut into her chest, one-handedly, she popped the clasps and shrugged out of it, leaving her bare chested.

“Stars, that feels soooo good. You have no idea,” and she began to eagerly scratch at her sides and breasts. “These things are the worst.” Under the warm light of the room, the blue gem in her throat seemed to be illuminated from within. “Bras, not breasts. Breasts are great. I’m particularly fond of mine. And a drink sounds like a stellar idea; good job!” Flopping across the bed, she scanned the wall, looking for a com. Locating it, she pressed a few buttons. “Could we get whatever spirits that Lysander has in the home?”

There was a confused wail of static, followed by a series of beeps. “No, I really do mean ALL of it. I doubt our Dyanmis guest has had an opportunity to try some of the finest Aperion liquor.”

Silence, followed by a sad chirruping. “No, no, it’s okay. Lysander said to make ourselves at home,” she shot a wink over her shoulder to him, completely ignoring the fact she was nude to the waist. “So make ourselves at home we shall. Oh, can you bring up some food, too? That stuff before was fantastic, but I’m starved.” The beeps took on a hesitant note, before ending in an affirmative trill.

Looking back over at Jack, she shrugged. “Serving ‘bots are amazing. You’ll pick up the basics of their language pretty quick, I think.” Standing, she shimmied the dress around her hips, down her legs, to her ankles before stepping out of it entirely and draping it over her arm as not to wrinkle it too badly. Standing on one foot, she hopped forward, trying to take off her matching panties. In a graceless act, she managed to hold onto the dress, lift one leg and then the other, and step entirely out of her underwear. Must’ve had practice.

Standing bare-assed in front of him, she seemed entirely nonplussed by it, the magenta gem above her mons sparkling in the dull light. This close, it seemed to have rainbow fire within it, like a pink opal. “So, Jack; get comfortable. Take off your boots, at least,” and she glided past him, seeming to intrinsically know where the closet was. Sweeping it open, she hung up the dress and carelessly tossed her panties aside. She’d deal with those later. A quick scan of the closet proved that indeed, most of her clothing had been moved to this new place. Quickly quelling the surge of fury that threatened her good mood, she shook her head – she’d deal with that later, too. Stepping back out of the closet, she looked up, squinting. “Sword rack? Oh, that’s right, you guys do tend to use such things. Well, I guess you could use that up there,” and she pointed to a series of hooks above the closet door. “I’m gonna go ahead and use the fresher to get rid of the rest of this gunk on my face. Guys have it so easy,” she said airily, again walking past him to make her way to the bathroom. “If the serving bot gets here before I’m out, just open the door. I bet the little thing’s gonna have to call back up to carry all that stuff up here. Then we can sit and really talk.” She gave him a big grin before disappearing into the bathroom.
 
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Jack didn’t expect the strength behind that grip, especially not from something as dainty and delicate as this Aperion. Alright, she wasn’t exactly a fragile glass rose, but to the hardened soldier who regularly fought their death machines, well, it was a safe assumption they were all just physically weak. This one in particular was proving him wrong in so many ways, though it wasn’t offending him one bit. She moved in closer, the smile on her face genuine, though Jack couldn’t read those features as easily as he could her eyes. The eyes were where the truth hid, only trained professionals and psychopaths could shield themselves in such a way as to hide the truth reflecting within their colored depths. Jack silently wondered if she was either of the two or was actually this welcoming to total strangers. Their eyes met evenly, Jack’s amber gaze was intense in its own right, hardened from witnessing numerous atrocities of war. Yet there was an undeniable humanity within their depths, a certain light of life that made them positively gleam.

“Do you want me to show you my teeth?” Jack asked lightly, preparing to flash his pearly whites for her inspection. He felt somewhat like he was at a pony show, being evaluated and judged by his physical condition. Or perhaps this was just how Aperions greeted one another. He started to wonder if there was a special handshake involved when Regulus did something unexpected. Her free hand rose and brushed through his hair, through the tuft of bangs too short to be drawn back into a ponytail, or the light burr on the sides, then down to his face, freshly shaven cheeks and all. His brows twitched, the left quirking as the questioning look drifted out over his features. Her hand found his chin then, holding fast before she proceeded to go on about her name. Jack listened, though his expression went slightly blank as she continued.

“You sound like one of the Priestesses trying to teach a group of baseliners,” Jack retorted, jostling her hand as it clung to his sharp chin the entire time. He continued to wear that lost expression as she continued, her comment about practicing with his tongue going completely over his head.

“I’ll have you know I’m capable of speaking the Common tongue rather fluently. I can even order takeout in Aperion…oh and tell you yer Mother is a flea bitten whore, Oh and—“ He was cut off suddenly by those fingers that lingered on his chin drifted up over his lips. She found them smooth, despite their thin quality. Jack had a wide, expressive mouth that was prone to smiling in a lopsided fashion, as much as eyes could express emotion readily so could lips. His right now were expression confusion, not from the touch solely, but more from the sensation that rippled through him from it. He had no idea of explaining that feeling, her touch was feather light and gone as quickly as it happened. Jack wasn’t sure why, but he liked that and felt a tinge of disappointment as she drew away from him. He turned to watch her go, his jaw slowly rotating as he gave his teeth a thoughtful grind. She certainly did know how to make those skirts swish with the sway of her hips.

“Lus,” Jack repeated, though he really wasn’t absorbing the word. “I don’t like it. We can try out Reg.” He quickly picked himself back up though and went on with the topic at hand, at least until it went back to the room at hand. Jack turned to regard their surroundings once more. His sword thumped at his side as he slowly moved about to explore, his gait slow and purposeful, fluid and without a waste of motion. Perhaps in another life he may have proven light on his feet from a dancer’s perspective, but Smilin’ Jack didn’t dance. Not that he was ever given the opportunity. He scoffed aloud as she spoke, offered a shake of his head and let out a derisive snort.

“I didn’t say an army. I said a platoon. Don’t know much about your military formations, do you Reggie? Not surprisin’.” He clucked his tongue on the roof of his mouth as he moved, coming to stand before an odd sculpture of a humanoid torso with no arms or head, its feminine frame draped in a see through robe. He tried not to stare at the finer assets of the statue, even as Regulus began to disrobe behind him.

“You presume correctly!” He said in a high, mocking tone. His arms folded behind him as he looked down his nose as the sculpture, before he turned his attention further down the way. He examined the furniture, finding there to be an abundance of couches and chairs. They did realize it was just the two of them in here? Or where they expecting guests? It wouldn’t be surprising, since so far neither one of them had been told much about what was going to happen. Jack rounded about a large potted plant, its trunk elegantly twisted about itself like a coiled serpent, his amber gaze drifting back towards where he last saw Regulus. She was talking about something, something feel good? Jack came closer, catching the gleam of that blue gem at her throat first and foremost, before it dawned upon him that she stood topless before him.

Dumbfounded was a good word to describe the look on his face. Someone could have walked right up and plucked the badges from his chest, taken the sword from his sheath and he wouldn’t have noticed. His cheeks flushed and Jack instinctively felt the need to look away…but…well…he didn’t. Regulus made no move to cover herself up, nor did she seem concerned she was hanging out there for all eyes to see. All eyes being his. Which were currently locked upon her ample bosom. It wasn’t the first time Jack saw a woman partially naked, but it was the first time he had seen someone like this…an Aperion nonetheless, bared so freely. His breeding partners took no joy in standing before him in the nude; many times they didn’t bother to disrobe fully. He couldn’t rightly recall anyone looking so perfect either.

“Yeah…breast drinks…” Jack muttered, only half aware he was even talking at all. All too quickly though the show came to an end. Lus nonchalantly flopped herself onto the large, comfortable looking bed and proceeded to have a conversation with a series of electric shrieks and whistles.

Jack went from dumbfounded to just dumb. His right hand slid up and scratched the back of his head, his gaze narrowing in concentration as he tried to make out something, anything of the conversation. To him, it was simply one sided, but it was obvious Lus was talking to something…or someone.

“You were talking to…a robot?” Jack blinked slowly, trying to absorb the idea, though it was obviously beyond him. To him, robots were little more than electrical constructs; they had no personality, sure, you could talk to them, give them simple commands and instructions. But from what he heard it sounded as if something was responding back to her.

“Just because a dog barks at you when it’s hungry doesn’t mean that he understands you when you ask him if its om nom nom time,” Jack started, focusing all too narrowly on the wrong topic. It didn’t matter much, since just then Lus stood up, her dress wiggled down to her hips, her legs, then to her ankles before she hoisted it over one arm. She then proceeded to dance about, succeeding in removing the only thing that was keeping her decency.

“Thal’s Balls!” Jack half-cried out, half-coughed, his hands rising before him to shield her from the waist down. He was taken off guard, sure, he could stare like a school boy at her before, but now it was just getting absurd.

“You do realize I’m standing right here? Right? Right!?” Jack called out as she merrily slid past him, drawn towards the closet seemingly on instinct. Jack was beside himself as she disappeared, the embarrassment, along with an undeniable tinge of excitement, coursed through him. She emerged from the closet before Jack had managed to regain his composure. She pointed towards some area above them; Jack wasn’t sure where since he couldn’t look away from her fully bare form, even if his senses told him to.

“Wait. What…what is a fresher? Where are your pants? What happened to the temperature in here?” He asked exasperatedly, to no one in particular. He ran a finger over the stiff collar of his uniform, tugging it out from his neck to give himself some air. He was answered with nothing but a big grin from the beautiful Aperion. The look both infuriated and intrigued him. How was that possible? Jack scrunched up his face, his lips twisting in preparation of an profound expliative, but he just snapped his fist out infront of him in anger and muttered to himself.

“Balls,” He grumbled, his amber gaze finding the hooks above the closet door. He sighed at the sight of them, gave a disbelieving shake of his head before he hooked his sword belt over one of them.

“What next?” He asked with a sigh, just as a loud knock came from the door. Jack took a deep breath and tried to gain a sense of composure before he strode towards the door and opened it. He found several of the robots from before, or what he thought were the same robots. Instead of cleaning products they had platters and bottles.

“Uh…Hiya there?” He greeted them hesitantly; unsure of just what he needed to do. They moved on without a word once the door was opened, sweeping in to place the dishes on the nearby table, along with more bottles and buckets of ice than Jack could count. His attention was drawn towards those bottles, even as the robots scurried about to place it just right before rushing off to retrieve more. He came to stand beside the table, his hand finding itself upon a familiar bottle. He lifted it from the table and held it by the neck in one hand, his palm supporting the base as he slowly turned it. It was of simple design, rectangular in shape and sporting a plain black label. The words sprawled across it were elegant, white on black. Jack had no idea what they said, but he knew the contents all too well. It brought back some memories, that much was obvious from the look of nostalgia as he held it aloft. Without thinking Jack twisted off the top and quickly brought the lip of the bottle to his own. His head tilted back and Jack took several long pulls from the bottle before he drew it away with a sharp grunt of a sigh. The alcohol burnt the entire way down, searing his insides in a way only good booze could.

“Mmm. Still tastes like shit,” Jack commented idly before his broad shoulders rolled in a shrug and he brought it back up for another drink.
 
She’d open the door, peering out at him. “Don’t be silly; I’m perfectly aware that you’re here in the room with me!” And she’d slip back into the bathroom.

Once inside, she let out a long sigh. The bathroom was as elegant and as expansive as the room itself – black marble floors that adjusted themselves to the ideal temperature based on the feel of her bare feet, a deep sunken tub that looked more like a pool, silver benches to sit and scrub before entering the bath. They were curved – cast to appear as if they’d actually sprouted from the marble floor and had just so happened to organically take the form of a place to sit.

Of course, there was the view – the wall-sized window looked out past the dark tangle of orchards, and above, the Cheshire cat grin of the crescent moon slowly made its ascent.

Ambient soothing music was chimed in, and the air was pleasantly humid. Perhaps sensing that his guests would want to bathe after the events of the day, a bath had been drawn. Faint wisps of steam rose from the mirrored surface of the water, and it took all of Regulus’s impulse control not to take a running leap into the center of it. Instead, she walked over to the edge, and dipped her toe in. The water was perfect – and along the wall, there were rows upon rows of additives, soaps, gels, sponges. Some –actually, most, she realized wryly, taking a closer look- sported familiar labels. They must’ve gone through her toiletries as well. Taking another glance at the beautiful pool behind her, she felt some of her anger at being displaced eased. Well, might as well make the most of it.

Tucked away around the curve of the right wall was the actual toilet – well, toilets. There was a choice of the sleek chromasteel standard, and a bidet a few feet away from it. Well, Lysander had mentioned that he’d combined two rooms into one to create this master suite.

Near the entrance was a large vanity, complete with cushioned seat. Taking her seat, she began the somewhat arduous process of taking off her makeup and undoing her hair. Piece by piece, she removed the violet crystals from her hair and set them down on the counter. It was contemplative work – in this moment of quiet, her mind had the time to go over the events of the night.

She didn’t like being left in the dark – and she wasn’t sure of whom to put the blame on. Would it be her fault? Did she miss something, somewhere? Did her mother not tell her something? Dilgan could hardly be held at fault any more than usual – the woman was never communicative about anything. But so much had happened in such a short amount of time. Just that quickly, the rest of her life, indefinitely, had been plotted out for her. Removing the last crystal, she took a long, hard look at her reflection. The Dyanmis man wasn’t entirely unattractive – and, admittedly, she wondered if she was being TOO cheery-, but she didn’t know anything about him, either. He more than likely had the means to do her great physical harm, if he so chose to. As much as she enjoyed training her body, she was suddenly aware at being completely unable to defend herself, if he so chose to attack her. She’d only have to hope that it wasn’t going to be the case.

Hostilities between Aperions and Dyanmis could be…interesting. She, personally, had never had much of a stake in the constant war. Her family’s money, title, positions – all had kept her comfortably buffered away from the worst of it. She’d chosen to volunteer to help with Dyanmis refugees and had been on an –rather ill-advised, she’d muse- council to propose offering Baseline Dyanmis Aperion citizenship, with the argument that with their lack of magical ability, they would pose no harm to their culture.

The vote had been overwhelmingly vetoed.

And only a fool could miss the rapport between the upperclass Aperions and Dyanmis members at the brief banquet. Some of it had to be some people legitimately coming to their senses in the face of the Watchers, but others…others seemed to be the open acknowledgement of alliances long formed by money and exploitation. And, for not the first time in her long life, Regulus cursed her inattention to political matters. Being around Jack shamed her – a strange sensation, but one she opted to dwell on now. Here was someone who had seen killing firsthand, seen the weapons that her mother and sister had had a hand in developing. Of course he wouldn’t like her. Or would assume the worst of her. There was nothing she could do about that, other than understand his attitude and do her best to work around it.

Although she knew that nickname was going to grate on her last nerve.

Running a hair pick through her thick mass of hair –it’d nearly exploded into a cloud of hair once freed from the bun-, she sucked on her lower lip. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to get anywhere by sulking in the bathroom and making wild assumptions about Jack. He’d have to just show her who he was as time went on. But perhaps she could do something to ease his mind a bit. Surely men were men, regardless of what side of the world they were on. And she was curious – how different would he be from the skilled hands of Aperions?

It took her a bit longer than she would have liked to be back to “normal”, and, once she was finished, she strode out of the bathroom, still unabashedly naked. Her hair was freed now, and fell down to her waist in a mass of airy fluff. Her timing was impeccable, even if she felt that she’d been delayed. The last serving robot was leaving, after adding a small vase with a multi-colored exotic blossom to the center of the table. True to what she had asked, the robots had brought all of the booze in the house – and a few odds and ends to munch on. As she perused the table with no amount of small interest, she leaned forward, plucking a small sandwich from a tray and took a mighty bite. Spying a green long-necked bottle, she picked it up, took a long swig from it, and wiped the back of her mouth with her hand before she spoke.


“You'll have to forgive me – the ‘fresher is a slang term for bathroom here, my clothing has been discarded since there’s no longer any need for it, and if you are uncomfortable with the temperature here, remove your boots and let the sensors in the floor make the appropriate adjustments for you. You are horrifically overdressed; there’s no small surprise that you would feel overwarm. Here, I can help you,” and she walked over to him, setting down her bottle on the table. Kneeling in front of him, she began to unbuckle his belt. “I’m not sure how you Dyanmis do things, but this is entirely too much clothing for being out of the public eye. And I insist that you join me for a bath! There’s nothing better than having a drink and a nice, long soak.” She’d succeed in undoing his belt buckle, whipping the garment from him as if it’d personally offended her, undone his zipper, and yanked his pants down almost in the blink of an eye. Face to face with his groin, she looked up at him expectantly.
 
Jack swirled the contents of the bottle idly, his eyes lingering upon it but not really seeing it. True to his words, the biting alcohol’s taste left something to be desired. It wasn’t meant to be idly sipped but chugged, at least in his humble opinion. Still, it brought with it some pleasant memories, like the first time he had ever tasted it. He was out on assignment with a small unit of elite warriors. They had managed to take out a forward relay center, or whatever the Aperion called them. It was basically a big electronic brain that kept their drones flying and their robots shooting. Without it they had to manually pilot their mechanical beasts, which often proved disastrous after such a catatonic loss of power. By the time Jack arrived they were mopping up any resistance left, which included several Aperions. He wasn’t sure what their rank or titles were, at that time they were just soldiers. It hadn’t been anything personal, though they didn’t seem to see it that way as they were lined up and shot through with a bolt of lightning. Jack wondered if they had fancy names like Regulus, the thought made him snort in disgust, though he covered it up with a chuckle.

A bottle similar to the one he had in his hands was found amongst the Aperion’s belongings, they all shared a few slugs of the foul stuff in celebration. He couldn’t help but find some bitter irony in that moment. Funny how memories came unabated by such trivial things. Jack was sure he could have been doing something far more productive than standing there mulling over the past, drinking piss and grimacing; but that was what Regulus found when she emerged from the bathroom. Jack stood there with his shoulders straight, his uniform still immaculate (if you didn’t notice the crust of food clinging to his badges). For a moment he forgot that he had just seen her in the buff, though as he turned towards the sound of her voice it all came crashing back into the foreground. Jack felt that lump in his throat return as his gaze just locked upon that lovely figure, unabashedly clad in nothing but a smile and oddly enough…crystals. The two adorning her lush frame seemed oddly familiar, their presence brought to mind similar stones his people used. Imbued with magical essence, they heightened particular attributes, or could offer protection; some even allowed the user to go without sleep or food. These Ioun Stones, as they were called, usually floated about one’s head, orbiting like a crown of differently shaped crystals. Some though took it another step further and actually embedded them in the flesh.

“Are those,” Jack began, momentarily distracted enough to get past his natural reaction to her naked frame. But Regulus wasn’t giving the Dyanmis a moment to collect himself. She went on again, explaining things in that calm, cool way that almost made her sound matronly. Jack blinked slowly, the attention turned upon him. His clothing of all things. He gaped at the indication that he was overly dressed for the moment. A ludicrous chuckle fell past his lips and he was about to spit out a retort, but then she went off and surprised him all over again. She went down to her knees before him, a sight that Jack had never bore witness too. It was both confusing and intriguing, the way she knelt there, her long mane falling about her, well past her waist. With it down, she appeared almost like a different person. Funny how something as simple as hair could do that. Jack’s mouth moved but no words came out. For the first time in a long time Jack was speechless, more so he completely froze up. It wasn’t typical of such a trained warrior; he relied on instinct, quick thinking and action. To hesitate as he did now was to leave himself open and in most cases, dead.

But this time he didn’t die, instead, his belt snapped out from his belt loops, the leather curling in on itself and letting out a resounding crack. The rest happened so quickly Jack’s mind barely had time to register it. He felt the cool air about his thighs before he realized his pants had been yanked down, the only thing stopping them from being removed fully were his combat boots. Regulus came face to face with his lower region, which now was clad in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. Jack was held snuggly, the bulge within his undergarments was of adequate size.

“I…don’t…uh…um. Wha…” Jack felt himself trying to talk, but all that came out was undecipherable stutters. He felt very exposed, the colder air made goose flesh dance up across his exposed legs, the muscles there cording and tensing. He wanted to pull back, to smack her hands away and give her a verbal lashing for being so presumptuous. But when she looked up at him, those golden eyes framed by that long, lovely hair, Jack felt a tingle of something he had rarely ever experienced. He visibly reacted to that expectant look, if only by the stirring of his loins. The look on his face was one of confusion and shock, his typically pale cheeks flushed and his amber gaze alight with contradictory emotions.

“I don’t.” Jack finally found his words. His hands moved, finding her own as they held onto the waistline of his pants. “I don’t…think this is really…appropriate. Do you?” He asked, though from his tone it didn’t seem that he really believed what he was saying. She had indicated a drink and a soak, something that should be relaxing. But nothing about this moment was relaxing, if anything it was stressful and stirring
 
“W…what’s not appropriate about it?”

Her hands were stilled, his on top of hers - and she realized, briefly, that it had been the longest that they’d touched each other without being forced to. Without the awkwardness of a handshake, of the strained smiles. Her gaze, locked on his, was curious, parts innocent. The desire had been scrubbed away, replaced with an eagerness to have this Dyanmis fit in, to ease his transition…all presumptuous thoughts. Who was she to do that for him? And better yet, why was she so eager to take the lead, like she knew what was actually going on?

Shifting, she got to her feet. Masked by her hair as she stood up, she pushed it aside to look at him again, her eyes holding his with a gentle intensity. She wasn’t trying to stare him down, or figure out how attractive he was this go-round. Instead, she was trying to understand. “Are…you not uncomfortable, dressed?” she asked, quietly this time, the semblance of cheeriness leeched from her voice. She’d pitched up her voice a half an octave to generate that cheerful, empty-headed persona, and now, her voice was a more natural tone, slightly musical. She reached forward, brushing the crumbs away from the badges that studded his chest, lingering longer than she really had to.

And slowly began to unbutton his top as well, her eyes never leaving his. She only stopped when his garment hung loosely off of him - resisted the urge to slip a hand up his chest, to explore the curves of his collar bone, of his neck.

Despite the clinical nature of the Aperions, physical touch was one of the most lauded methods of communication. Kisses, hugs, caresses - between family members, friends, members of the same sex, were all considered incredibly natural and were encouraged. To her, it was the most natural thing in the world when one was scared, out of place, to want to be touched, to be held, caressed. Reassured. It transcended all words, all languages. And that, in her own way, she was trying to offer to him. Even with his clear discomfort, she would press closer, pressing her body warmly against his, before wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. It was light enough that he could have wiggled free, pushed her away. Her lips near his ear, she didn’t say anything, just hugged him close. The cool metal of his badges bit into her flesh, raised goosebumps to match his. Though she could feel his burgeoning erection, she didn’t react to it - seemed not to notice it. She wouldn’t dare press it further to a warming kiss.

When she ended the hug, it was with a gradual slipping away, her arms trailing down his, to lightly grasp his hands in a warmer gesture than their handshake had been. “Is this any better….? I am unsure how the Dyanmis are,” she said, her eyes still holding his. There was no hostility there; only uncertainty. She hadn’t meant to make him feel uncomfortable - if anything, she had wanted to make him feel welcome. In a childish manner, she had, after all, instantly liked him. He was handsome, and though rough around the edges, it was all things that she understood. Perhaps she had been oversimplifying things, merely liking him because he was handsome and in the same position. How childish. Her mother would never let her hear the end of it. And perhaps it showed the limited understanding of the Aperion world - in a world where everyone was assumed to be morally upstanding and good, where everyone was beautiful or handsome, it would be hard to make the connection that looks weren’t always tied to moral and ethical superiority.

“I’m sorry that I don’t have much hostility towards the Dyanmis,” she said, seemingly from out of nowhere. “I’ve been lucky enough to avoid most of the war thus far. In fact,” and a light chuckle colored her voice, “This is the first time I’ve been directly involved in any of it. I’m not sure how to comfort a soldier, or even why I’d want to. I guess I’m supposed to hate you for who you are, but I can’t. I don’t even know you, nothing but your name. And I guess you have real reason to hate me, and I can’t blame you for that,” and she ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it out and away from her face. It was an afro gone wild - just a near literal cloud of hair that trailed around her, surrounded her in a haze of hair. “I don’t want you to, though.” Now who was the one looking for reassurance? If he’d closed that gap, caressed her face, touched her…she’d feel more certain about everything. That he didn’t hate her. That he wanted to work with her. That, together, they could make the Project work.

“This is all very strange, isn’t it? The two of us here - the whole project. I signed up because I thought I could help put an end to the war. And then it’s announced that I’d be working with you tonight; I wanted to make a good impression, to introduce you to how we live life. It’s not such a bad thing…And the best way I know to relax is to get into the bath and soak away the day. Sort of like laundry for your life,” and she laughed a little now. “I didn’t even think that the Dynamis could see nudity in a different fashion…” She trailed off, horrifically self-conscious and embarrassed by the major social gaffe she’d committed. Like an idiot, she’d barreled in, working under assumption after assumption. Were they not both human? Why wouldn’t things be the same?

Now, looking at him, the lines of his tattoos, his scars, she felt as if she’d shrunk 5 sizes. “Would you…” she licked her lips, tried to find some of her old confidence to draw on, “would you be more comfortable if I wore clothing around you? Or if I bathed before you? I really wish, though, you would at least give it a try with me. I could wear something in the bath, if that made you feel better.”

Regulus was known for that impulsive nature - it was something that generally served her well in her line of work. But now? She felt completely out of sorts, and it scared her, deeply. She was too well-bred to visibly fidget in front of the man, but she wasn’t far from nervous pacing. She was caught by surprise by how desperately she needed his approval. Not necessarily his affection, but his agreement; that they could work and live together. That this could be done. It was as if someone had punched her in the stomach, and the more she thought about it, the more the feeling stole her breath away.

Walking past him, suddenly, she grabbed a bottle from the table and took long drinks from it, not caring what liquor that it was, only that the fire of it burning down her throat and stomach was enough to take the edge off of that feeling. She didn’t like that. This many years alive and she’d never felt anything like it before. She’d always been so self-assured; every accolade that she’d gotten, she’d earned. Respect and acceptance were things she always had. And now? What now? What now with this strange man, this man that could do her harm, that the Project rested on as well?

Pulling the bottle from her lips, she let out a soft gasp at the fire of it. “I’m sorry,” she said, straightening up, trying to collect the tatters of her Aperion dignity. “This must have been horrible for you.” The timid, embarrassed woman was gone, replaced by the lightly held swagger from before. "Me and my stupid assumptions! Well, then, Jack, since we will be here for a while - would you tell me about how your people do things, since apparently I've made a horrific fool of myself assuming that you'd like to learn to do things a different way?"
 
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She answered his question with one of her own. For a moment Jack wanted to laugh against, that absurd laughter that one did when then found the situation all but impossible. It welled up briefly and just as quickly disappeared. Perhaps it was the touch of her skin, or the all too genuine quality of her tone when she asked what wasn’t appropriate about this moment. His fingers curled slightly, only to tighten against the delicate skin of her hands. He couldn’t rightly remember anyone giving him a look like that, the curiosity, the innocence within those golden depths. This Aperion was far from the innocent, naive type, though her assumptions were surely misplaced. A part of him wanted to brush her hands away and tell her off, though another part, a bigger part, wanted to know what this was all about. Did this Aperion want him? He knew of the ways of lust, sure, he had had his fill of women when it came to breeding but it hadn’t ever been his choice. And never with someone like this, someone so beautiful and all too honest. Honesty was something Jack had little experience with either, it was all too easy to believe that there was always an ulterior motive lying just under the skin. Regulus moved, drawing to her feet all too quickly and with it brought another wave of self-conscious embarrassment.

“No. It’s not that. I mean…I don’t particularly enjoy wearing this getup, but…” He heard his voice, the uneasiness in it undeniable. Just as his voice started to change, so did hers. As his grew more aggiated hers softened to something Jack could almost describe as musical. It had an alluring quality, something Jack felt deep down inside that he wanted to hear more of. He was sure, given time, that lilting tone could talk him into anything. Her hands found their way to his chest, brushing away the crumbs on his precious metals, even through the material of his uniform he swore he could feel her fingertips. And then she began to unbutton his top. His lips parted once more, to protest all over again. Yet when he went to say her name he couldn’t for the life of him remember more than her first name. Even then his tongue felt thick and ungainly, the only thing that fell past his lips were sighs of frustration. The thick material of his top slipped away from his chest as she undid the last button, the heavy material hung loosely about his chest and upper arms, revealing the cut and rugged frame underneath. The layers of material offered some bulk to his svelte frame, as did it hide just how impressively built he was. The undershirt he wore clung to him and only when Regulus undid his top did he realize he had been sweating underneath.

“Regulus,” Jack felt the name falling past his lips, whispered with a hint of reverence. He was trying his best to get a grip of the situation, but everything she was doing was twisting and turning him further. He thought for a moment that she would lean in for a kiss, or do something far more dramatic now that she had laid him mostly bare. Yet instead, all she did was draw him into…a hug? Her arms slid about his neck, drawing herself closer in a light embrace. He could have easily just shrugged her off, he could tell briefly that she would release him if he wanted to. But did he? Jack thought for just a moment he did, but as that bare flesh pressed against him, his initial reaction was to tense, which turned into a shiver that ran up his spine. He breathed again, a sigh of frustration. His hands remained at his side, slightly raised as if he had no idea what to do with them at the moment. Should he return the affection? This close contact was reserved with those of intimate relations. Not even breeding partners felt the need to reassure one another with such affections. He knew nothing of this woman, save what she had already spoke of. The warm breath near his ear made him quiver, his inner core tensing and his eyes briefly closed. If she had persisted Jack would have no way of resisting, even as the hug came to its gradual end his arms started to shift, as if to wrap about her. But he had been too late, instead she sought them and held them gently, a gesture that did not go unnoticed.

“I…” He began softly, unsure of how to answer the question. Were their people so very different? Perhaps not to, at least those that didn’t lead a life dedicated purely to conflict. He beheld those golden pools once more, his amber gaze drifted across her ravishing visage in an attempt to find an answer. Yet he found nothing, only more questions. Before he could find the words to express himself, she continued on, the words falling past her lips so easily. He envied that of her right now, the ability to carry on a simple conversation seemed beyond him. Even partially disrobed, Jack was the one that felt like a simpleton. Despite her nakedness, he should have some resolve left in himself to carry out at least this simple, basic gesture of communication. Yet with her so close, the look in those radiant eyes, Jack felt like a young boy all over again, lost and confused, unsure of what to do to the point of paralysis. It was then that she hit him flat in the face with something truly absurd. He blinked and shook his head, snapping from the daze as his head tilted curiously to the right a few degrees.

“What do you mean you haven’t been involved in any of it? You don’t know who I am? Smilin’ Jack? The Revenant?” Jack gestured to himself, suddenly very much hurt. He felt the sting, the initial reaction was very childish on his part. But it was his assumption that everyone played their part in the war, just as his people did. The fact that his moniker meant absolutely nothing to her was appalling. But all Jack could do was laugh, a riotous bout that shook his shoulders fitfully. Another fistful of lies he had been fed. He had known for many years that he was a ghost to the Aperion, a phantom in the night that they told their children to be afraid of. He wanted to boost of his martial prowess then, if only to see some fear in her gaze. But…why? That initial bigotry surfaced without consent and Jack was forced to bit his tongue and swallow it down.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Jack said lightly. He shrugged slowly, rolling his shoulders back and letting his jacket fall from his shoulders, exposing himself further. The scars on his shoulders and arms stood out as did his numerous tattoos. He tossed the jacket aside before turning his attention to his boots. He fitfully worked at the laces, tugging them further apart before he was able to wiggle free of them. Only then did his trousers follow suit, leaving him in his undergarments fully.

“There. I’m comfortable,” He said and gestured down to himself, even if the look on his face indicated otherwise. “Nudity isn’t something that we flaunt. I guess we’re a more private lot than you. I can’t rightly say how my people regard it with friends and family…since I’ve never had the privilege of either.”

It was a lie, at least partially. But Jack truly had no idea what the typical Dyanmis did in the confines of their own abodes. He very much doubted they walked about as Regulus did now. Once more the idea of bathing was brought up, her urging of him joining her was alluring and ridiculous at the same time. The emotions shifted quite quickly, it was impressive if one could see it from outside. The woman before him had her moment of doubt before the confidence flare returned. He wasn’t rightly sure how to regard this woman, who seemed at once embarrassed about her initial reaction and yet confident enough to keep standing there with nothing but her hair to partially shield her. She didn’t give him time to fully answer, instead she moved about the table and snatched up the closest bottle. Just as Jack had done moments before she gulped down several mouthfuls. In that moment, Jack found that to be the most human reaction one could have, given the situation. As quickly as the indignation of the moment arose it vanished and Jack felt himself relax, if only inwardly.

“Hey. If the worst thing that happens tonight is that I get flashed by an incredibly beautiful lady and she insists I sit naked in a tub of water with her. Well…I can consider that a pretty good day,” Jack turned the moment into a boisterous joke, to which he laughed rather easily at. It was the easiest defense mechanism to intense emotional situations. Right now he didn’t think he could deal with much more of the back at forth. He moved towards Regulus then, drawing closer as his hand slid out and took the bottle from her grasp.

“Don’t feel stupid. S’not like either of us got a manual about this shit. I…maybe I….over reacted a little bit at first…but…I mean…have you seen yourself?” Jack took a slug from the bottle and made a grimace before he offered it back to her.

“I don’t care if yer Aperion…or Dyanmis…You got it goin’ on,” He flashed a confident grin for a brief moment. There was the Jack everyone knew and loved. Turn it all into a joke, dismiss it with a smile and a wink.
 
She’d leave the bottle to him, her mind spinning. She’d slip into the closet, and come back out wrapped in a deep violet robe. The material was rich – with a satin sheen, but a plushness that suggested lazy days. Embarrassment twisted her stomach, while anger plucked at the spot right behind her eyes, and rejection whispered in her ear. It was the latter, she realized, that seemed to be the root of all else. She’d never been in a situation where physical affection wasn’t returned. It left her reeling, her world almost literally turned upside down. “I..”


Unable to look him in the eye now, she turned her gaze to the expanse of night that rested outside of the window. Maybe it would be easier to draw the attention away from herself – to answer the questions he’d posed. To inch, then run away, from what just happened. And to come to terms with it. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath, and held it. Held it. And let it go, in a long exhalation. Unable to rid herself entirely of the pestering nag of her emotions, she could at least quiet them enough to continue this. She had to. There was something bigger at stake. Hurt feelings could be dealt with later.


“My apologies, Jack,” and the musical lilt of her voice was carved flat, carefully scrubbed of any emotional indication. “I’ve gravely misunderstood the differences between our cultures, and in doing so, have offended you.” The comments about her appearance, she’d wipe away. They meant nothing without the physical gestures to prove to her. Again, perhaps a difference of societies. Compliments were shown as well as given, and to her, having her beauty merely praised without a sealing caress, kiss, affection, meant nothing to her.


She’d turn to face him now, and the warmth in her eyes was replaced, carefully, bit by bit, with business. “To answer your question,” and she tightened the sash around her robe. The garment was huge on her frame, drowning out any curve or suggestion of curve to her body, “No, I have not been directly involved in this war,” and her tone bordered on offended that he would even suggest such a thing. “Despite what you may see on the front line, not every Aperion is out for the wholesale slaughter of another race,” and there was an indignant tilt of her chin that spoke of her high breeding. “My father, in particular, has spoken against the war for over a century now. I myself have sat on several councils to try and figure out the best way to absorb the...” she trailed off, looking for a word. Something left her lips, but it wasn’t Standard speech. Her brow furrowed, and the corner of her mouth twisted down. “I think the Standard term for them is ‘Baseline’, but I have tried to figure out how to absorb them into our population. The ones that the war has displaced. I have seen the results of people fighting, struggling, dying. And I want to end it. There is no glory in what you do,” and she spat the last part out at him.


It was petty, it was childish, and borne of her mortification – and she couldn’t, no, wouldn’t, stop herself now. “You think you’re so important? You think someone, like me, who teaches history and the Art of Love would know who you are? Do you know who you are, at the end of the day?” Her voice rose, anger leaking into it, sharpening that musical edge. And she approached him, unabashedly now, too full of impotent fury to stop herself. And in front of him, she picked up his jacket, the medals chiming. “You are absolutely NOTHING.” The last word was hissed, full of rage. “These medals? Your accolades? Nothing. Fancy script on a tombstone in a cemetery FULL of them. I know not what a ‘Revenant’ is, nor do I care. Because do you know what happens when you’re out there, fighting and watching your comrades getting killed? I’m cleaning up YOUR mess by working with the refugees. I’m bandaging those you pull apart. Do you know how much it affects my everyday life, if I had chosen not to be of help? Not. At. All. It doesn’t even slow the trains. You see this luxury around you? How many of your comrades lived like this? Could dream of it? Could imagine a life like this? And if you glory so much in what you do, then you have no place here. The purpose of this Project is for peace; the joining of two.” Her anger spent, her voice was tired now, worn. She tossed his jacket to the floor, as if she couldn’t stand the reminder of the hypocrisy.


“One always has a choice. You could fight, you could refuse. Death is the answer either way. Now, what kind of death, what legacy you’ll leave behind, that’s a choice that’s always yours to make.” She undid her robe now, tossing it carelessly to the bed, defiant in the show of her body. How dare he make her ashamed of what she’d worked for, of what she knew to be normal and natural and good and a gift?


She closed the gap between them, reaching out and grasping his chin to make him look at her. There was still fury in those golden eyes of hers, but it had calmed from that fire to a slow smolder, mere coals. “I meant what I said, Jack. I don’t want you to hate me. And I have no hatred for the Dyanmis. This world is not mere black and white, and neither are its people. Either you will work with me, or you will leave. Either way, the sun will rise.” She held his face firmly, with a strength that surprised her. And she searched his eyes, for long, long moments, before letting go of his chin and stalking off into the bathroom.


+++++++


Slipping below the warm, fragrant waters, she resurfaced mere moments later, her hair slicked down to her face. A serving droid, small, flat, and circular, beeped at her inquisitively, bearing a chilled glass of red wine. Taking it soundlessly, she took a long swallow, and sighed, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling. Unlike the ceiling in her bedroom at her home, this one was a mosaic, depicting the deep lush forests of the Western continent of the Aperion Commonwealth. Just by looking at the artistry of it, she knew that it had to have been commissioned, and was astronomical in price.


Just like everything else here.


With a long sigh, she set down the glass of wine, closed her eyes, and rubbed in a circular motion at her temples. “That could have gone better,” she grumbled to no one in particular. And she knew it could have. Saying she’d lost her temper was putting it mildly. She’d surprised herself with her own vitriol, something that she thought that she’d deal with only with Dilgan. He wasn’t to blame. Well, not entirely. He didn’t know what his stiffness meant, what a slap in the face it had been. And it wasn’t even that she was trying to coax him into Loving with her. Even she knew that sort of thing took time and a genuine, mutual attraction that went beyond mere affection. Maybe what she’d heard about the Dynamis being a loveless people was accurate. And she hated to think that it might be – it was such a broad, sweeping statement. And she had told herself she didn’t want to go into the Project with any pre-conceived notions of what it meant to be a Dynamis. Faced with someone who was long practiced in looking down his nose at Aperions had offended her on a level she thought she couldn’t be offended on.


A scowl crossed her face as she relived the moment, and, frustrated, she dunked below the water again – before screaming in frustration. The sound was muffled by the water, the only indication of it was the slew of bubbles that reached the surface. And no matter how she tried to vent, tried to relax, it kept gnawing at her. That he had the audacity to be so simple as to make assumptions about her! To not even approach this with an open mind! Despite what it may have seemed like on the outside, the perceived “rejection” of her affection had little to do with her physical appearance in her mind. To her, it was similar to refusing a home cooked meal or hospitality; one simply just didn’t DO those things. It was a grave insult – if it had been any other Aperion, the consequences would have been far worse than just a lost temper.


But still…she knew she hadn’t handled it well. And she could have done more to empathize with him. But look at him! He gloried in killing and had disdain for connection! For love! How could such a man exist? How could he even be anything close to happy like that? And she had to share a space with him – no, not just a space, but a bed with him. Ugh. She’d rather sleep on the floor. Or maybe in here. It wasn’t like there was a lack of space, or places for her to retreat to to get away from that lout.
 
Instead of even retorting to his comment on her beauty, albeit as low brow as it was, she simply disappeared into the nearby closet, leaving Jack with the bottle and a cold chill. He quirked a brow as he watched her go, his grip on the bottles neck redoubling as he gave it another pull.

“Mmm. She was right about the floor…” He muttered into a sigh after taking another drink. He shifted his weight, placing the ball of his left foot on various places on the tiles around him just to test it out. Ridiculous, Jack thought, which brought out somewhat of a silly smile to his face. It was about that time that she remerged, wearing a flowing purple robe that swallowed her whole. Jack suddenly felt very much a man in his skivvies now, wait, what the hell was going on? He didn’t have to strip down almost to his birthday suit for no reason; she had been the one to initiate it. And now she covered herself up, Jack felt the vertigo swell up suddenly as his mind tried to comprehend just what was going on.

“Hey…uh…y’know,” Jack started idly, though he was cut off sharply by that flat, all too profession voice. There was no denying the change, though what was far more telling was the lack of warmth in those molten pools. Her eyes had been so alluring, one of the various things Jack had found hard to look at for long. They were the type one could get lost in, at least, they had been. Now they were cold and calculating, a familiar trait he had seen all too often in his enemies. Jack felt another shiver ripple up his spine, this time though, it was far from pleasant. He felt his back straighten and his shoulders extend, suddenly coming to attention in a responsive reaction to her words.

“Hey…Seriously, Reggie. No harm no foul. We can’t expect to know how one another tick…” Jack began to brush the apology aside, let it roll over him as the misunderstanding it was. Or at least that’s what he attempted to do. It seemed he was in for something else entirely. The offense in her tone marred its beauty, all too quickly Jack saw through the allure that had hovered about her like a drunken haze. Now he saw that haughtiness, the pride and arrogance of her kind. His muscles tightened, his jaw clenched, Jack set the bottle down on the table unconsciously and stepped away from it slowly.

“Baseliners. Call them what they are. The twat that spawned me was a Baseliner. Hell, I was one till I was twelve and…” Jack faltered, the swelling of emotions catching up with him. The story was on the tip of his tongue, ready to fling in her face. It was a base, almost sadistic feeling that came over when, yet he managed to stuff it down and refrain. The word glory struck him hard though, like a fist to the gut that left a cold fire burning in his stomach. Ice water trickled up through his veins. Everything that came afterwards was another slap, right across the face; he could feel the sting, the vile behind each word she spat. The one that sent him reeling though, was the question he asked himself every time he returned from a mission: Exactly who was he? To The Collective, he was a tool, another weapon in their impressive arsenal. To the People, he was a hero, a shining example of patriotism and racial pride. To his fellow Soldiers, he was an enigma, not truly a part of them but still existing in their circle. What did Jack think of himself? If she only knew the answer. The insult and anger grew all too quickly upon his face, which contorted as he tried to keep it from violently bursting forth. Jack was able to keep his calm on the field of battle, when bullets were flying and people were dying. But here and now, with this gorgeous woman hurling insults at him, he couldn’t rightly resist.

“You think I give one damn about what it is you do? You walk around on your heated floors, nibble at your tiny foods and hug each other with big, fake smiles. At the end of the day yer egos are so fuckin’ bloated it’s a surprise you can fit yer head through the doorway. How many people have you actually helped? Because I can show you a thousand more out there starving, holding their dead babies and asking the Gods why them?!” Jack snarled and spat, like a rabid dog he lashed out with a verbal tirade he truly hadn’t thought out. He caught the light flickering off the medals on his jacket as she tossed them to the floor. Jack felt himself grinding his teeth in frustration, not at the idea of her throwing his jacket, but at the sheer audacity of her thoughts.

“Those medals don’t mean shit to me. Take them, melt them down into a soup spoon for all I can. You got yer head so far up your pretty little ass and you think you know me. Fuck glory, fuck this project. Fuck you,” Jack wasn’t much for debate, that much was clear. He refrained from picking up his jacket, if only to prove his words true. The honor behind those medals was meaningless, at least to him. That robe came flying free from her body, revealing the lush, ripe, dark curves that had sent them into this confused mess originally. He paused in his wrath, thrown off by the sudden revelation of that lovely figure. What was she doing? Before he knew it she caught his chin, holding him fast with surprising strength. It was a bold move, especially after berating him so openly moments before. Jack wasn’t an inherently violent man, not without cause. A tongue lashing didn’t deserve a fist in the face, despite her impressive strength there was little that she could do to hurt him physically. She had already done plenty enough to shred up his insides though. He set his jaw and met her gaze evenly. Her fury had died, though he felt no such diminishing of his own anger.

“Not everyone has a choice in life. We all weren’t born with a long, fancy name and pedigree to match.” Jack retorted lowly, his voice rolling thunder low in his throat. Her words struck home all the same, but at this moment he was tired of letting her get to him.

“You done?” He hissed, jerking his head back after she held his gaze far longer than he was comfortable with. Those beautiful eyes were just too much, even in their present state they did more to him than he dare admit. He turned and folded his arms over his chest, showing her his back just in time to hear her feet padding softly towards the bathroom. Jack clenched his jaw tightly and let out a hissing sigh of frustration. It was either that or scream.

The bottle was nearly gone by the time Jack found the courage. He had roamed the room in vain looking for a way out, some hatch or switch that might let him run. He thought once or twice about blasting a hole in the side of the building, that was always a good way to vent. Instead, Jack hit the bottle. It wasn’t something he normally did; Alcohol was rarely on the menu. Tonight was an exception, so Jack took advantage. He had always heard that people drowned their sorrows at the bottom of a bottle. What he didn’t know was that alcohol affected everyone differently. Instead of feeling any kind of relief, Jack felt all the worse. His thoughts were jumbled, just why he was angry he wasn’t sure. Was it because she was a pompous ass? Or was it because she had hit all too close to home? The idea he had insulted her first never crossed his mind, there was no way he could know that what he did was a slap across the face.

The idea came quickly and suddenly. They were stuck here with one another, that much was clear. But that didn’t mean he had to let her win this little argument. She had spouted her profound words and left him on a high note. Jack would return the favor. He’d drop the mic so hard people on the other side of the planet would feel it! His idea was grand, or so he thought. In actuality, it wasn’t all that clever.

Jack burst into the bathroom quickly. His bare feet slapped loudly with each hurried step, giving his approach away before he even passed the threshold. He came in with that same angry look, pointed and accusatory finger at her and with a slight slurring of his words began his rant.

“You know what? Yer a bitch! You want naked shower time? Then fine! Let’s go, Sister!” Jack spouted off wildly. He had yet to dress himself again, so he stood before her in his under shirt and boxer briefs still. At least for the moment, all too quickly he ripped the shirt from his frame, revealing the cut and toned upper torso, lined with scars and ink. He tossed the shirt aside and bent at the waist, peeling his boxers from his hips and rising to his full height once more with them in tow.

“This what you wanted? This how Aperions relax? Lettin’ it all hang out!” Jack tossed his boxers aside before he strode closer, allowing her to get a good look. His arms raised to shoulder levels, offering himself up for display as he turned on the ball of his left foot.

“Now that that’s out of the way. Let’s get on with the splish splash!” Jack all but leapt into the tub, the water displacing and rushing out in a violent explosion. He dove under the scent waters, the warmth giving him a jolt that slightly awoke him from his drunken daze. He pushed to the surface like a Orca breaking the waves on a seal. He lunged for Regulus, his dark hair clinging to the side of his face, water trickling down his skin in rivulets.

“Is this what you wanted?” He hovered over her, his strong arms sliding to either side of the tub’s edge, boxing her in as he leaned in closer. Those amber orbs gleamed in the dim light, the look of anger still very much covering his face. Yet there was something else, something that the rush of the moment only fueled. Jack felt a stirring inside him, a rush of warmth that flooded his loins. The pool was so warm, so inviting despite his brash entrance. He let his gaze drift about them, over her form, partially hidden under the water.

“Am I doin’ it right?” He asked in a husky murmur before he tilted his head forward and smashed his lips against hers in a hungry, angry kiss.
 
If the situation wasn’t so heated, it’d be comical.

She looked up at the sudden intrusion, her eyes wide with shock, before they narrowed in utter contempt. Bad enough he’d mocked Aperion hospitality, bad enough that he thought that his words could hurt her – little more than the barks of a dog behind a fence. But this? On one of the few things she held sacred? Before she could get up to give him a tongue lashing he’d never forget, he splashed in, sending sheets of fragrant water high into the air, over her, over the poor serving robot and knocking over her wine glass. It shattered, the shards shifting as the water washed them further away from the tub.

She barely had time to register his dark form cutting through the water before he was atop her again, looming over him. From this angle, he seemed to tower over her, and as she looked up into his face, there wasn’t a single trace of fear in her golden eyes. Defiance was there, yes, perhaps some of that lingering arrogance that he hated so. But beneath all of that was a glimmer of curiosity, of interest– what was he planning on doing? What could he even dream, no, dare to think that he could do? She shifted within the tub. It was built somewhat similar to a pool in the sense that there was a “deep” end, and a shallow end. The shallow end had ledges built into the wall, to serve as seats for those wanting to relax a bit more. It was on one of these ledges that Regulus was perched, and where she looked up at him so boldly. Well, not entirely on his face – her eyes ran down his nude form appraisingly, taking in the scars, the tattoos, both intriguing and garish, the dark triangle of his pubic hair. Before they lingered too obviously and too long, she snapped her gaze back up to his face. The insult she could wave off – that was just a word. His actions? His presumptions? He had another thing coming to him.

“You don’t know what I want,” she snapped, “And you don’t know what you wa-” His lips cut her off. Silence resounded in the room, thunderous after their raised voices. Save for the steady drip of water and the confused moan of the serving robot (built to handle quite a bit of splashing), the quiet was almost oppressive. Even the ambient music seemed to have stopped. It held, she, shocked still by the sheer intensity that came from him, something she hadn’t expected, but…


With a surprisingly deep snarl, she wrenched free, and slapped him, her hand colliding with a loud, wet pop. “How DARE you,” she growled out…before taking a liberal handful of his hair and jerking him back towards her, her lips crashing against his own. She’d hold it until the air burned in her lungs, until she had to break free and take a deep, gasping breath. “You boor,” her lips crashed into his again, pulling him tighter. A hand remained in his hair, the other encircled his back as she pulled him into her. Again, until that sweet burn threatened to consume her chest, she held up, breaking free to breath. “Don’t,” another explosive kiss, “call,” and yet another, burning to his lips, “me ‘Reggie’!,” this kiss would stick, and she forced his mouth open, her tongue instantly grappling with his.

So much for the Aperion polish.

It washed away from her, her speech, her posture. Though her voice still had the musical lilt that had attracted him so, it was bolstered by her anger, by the surprisingly intense warmth that had coursed through her the moment he first kissed her. He tasted of the food he’d mocked moments before, of harsh whiskey. She pulled away from his lips, momentarily, open mouthed, panting, face flushed, to stare into his amber eyes. The anger there mirrored her own. She’d never been so insulted – or so aroused. But he didn’t need to know that second part. And against her better interests, against everything she knew was probably a good idea, against all logic, she pulled him into her as she eagerly spread her legs under the water, forcing him between them. She hooked her right leg across his hip, giving her further leverage to pull him into her. Their noses touching, water droplets collected in their eyelashes, lips so close that they could feel each other’s breath, she kept her hand tangled in his hair, the other shifting to the back of his neck. “I hate you,” she said, softly, against his lips.

It was keeping in theme with the “Who’s going to be the most childish tonight?” but there was real rancor behind it. In that moment, she hated him. Hated him for rejecting her attempt to comfort him. Hated him for ruining her bath. Hated him for being so different. Hated him for turning her on so much that she couldn’t think straight, hated him for the burn that he was causing in her labia, the ache that needed to be filled. It wasn’t even a “want” at this point – it was a deep, primal need, and there was going to be hell to pay if she didn’t get it. Already, she was jostling him against her, forcing his groin to rub into hers. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, and she growled in frustration. It must’ve been odd to hear such guttural noises coming from an Aperion – and in a fashion, it surprised her as well. She was usually much more controlled when it came to Loving, but this wasn’t that. This had nothing to do with Loving. There was no gentleness here. She certainly wasn’t acting as she did when she was teaching. All she knew was that fire that was creeping to overwhelm her with each kiss, each tangle of the tongue.

“If you don’t take me within the next five seconds, I am going to murder you,” she growled against his mouth, bucking her hips impatiently against his.
 
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Why Jack decided to kiss her in that moment, he may never really know. All he could feel was the dull rage of her previous statements, fueled by the false courage of liquid resolve he had downed moments prior. It had instilled him with that righteous anger, something he was familiar with, something he could cling to and provide some form of comfort. This was what he knew, aggression, anger, impotent rage, bottled up with nowhere to go, no way of release. He focused it all on her, wanting nothing more than to smash her into a thousand pieces, grind those pieces into a fine dust and scatter it to the four winds.

Instead, he kissed her, hard. It was like nothing he had ever done before. Sure, his lips had pressed against another’s before, some of his breeding partners felt some sense of attachment to their stud. But Jack had never kissed anyone like this. In the heat of the moment, despite all possibilities, his lips slammed against hers so hard he thought for a moment he might knock a tooth loose. She didn’t resist, if anything he felt her tense sharply, no doubt from the sheer shock of the moment. Then came a disturbing snarl, like that of a wounded beast forced into a corner. Regulus broke free, jerking back and from out of nowhere her open palm hit him square across the side of the face. Jack winced, the slick wet smack ringing in his ears even after it had ended. He winced, the sting bringing about some sense of coherency. He heard the words, growled with such anger as before, though as she moved Jack started to reacted. He expected another slap, it wasn’t the first he’d ever received in a heated argument, nor would it be the last. Instead, her hand found his short hair, wet and slick; those slender digits curled into it and angrily jerked him forward. To his surprise, she brought him closer to her lips, which collided with his own sharply. It was his turn to be shocked; of all things he didn’t expect her to return the attention, let alone with a similar intensity. Was this what lust felt like? Jack had hungered for another’s touch plenty of times, but never before had he a chance to truly vent that frustration on a living soul. Her lips were soft yet firm, the taste of her wine lingered upon them and Jack couldn’t help the low rumbling groan of appreciation that came from his throat. She didn’t pull back, not this time, so Jack leaned in further, his arms sliding from the side of the tub to her frame. They dipped under the warm waters, fingertips brushed over the arch of her back only to curl and rake over that dark flesh. By then she was drawing back, gasping for breath and insulting him at the same time.

“Fuck you,” Jack spat amidst gasping for breath. Yet before he could truly fill his lungs she was on him again, kissing with the same passion as before. Her arms tightened, once again displaying that impressive strength. Jack felt an unexplainable burning in his loins, a fire that had been a smoldering coal only moments ago. Yet with each touch of her lips it grew, burning bright and white as their lips touched yet again. Her hand was in his hair, on his back, all but shoving him onto her. In turn, his hands clung to her lovely figure, one slipped down over the swell of her hip, down over the firm curve of her backside where he grasped all too tightly, his fingertips biting into the toned flesh.

The kiss broke several more times, giving each time to gasp for another breath before diving back into one another. She demanded he not call her that nickname, Reggie. Jack’s hand’s tightened upon that lush frame, his other hand slid up and over the side of her neck, into her tangled wet mane. Sharply it gripped those damp locks and as the kiss began anew, Jack was the one to bring it to a halt.

“I’ll do,” He whispered against her lips, before smothering her with another hungry kiss. His tongue lashed out against hers, seeking the confines of her mouth to hungry explore. “Whatever the fuck,” He broke off, gasping, his nose brushing against hers as he gulped another mouthful of air. “I want.” He finished with a growl, only to tilt his head and return to her lips with a passion. Jack wasn’t an experienced kisser, by no means. But the passion was there, the hunger to search out her lips with his own, explore with his tongue. It came naturally now, if not with her urgent offerings that started the intensity of their kiss.

Eventually though they parted once more and for the first time since he leapt into the pool, their eyes met. Amber met gold and they lingered intently, albeit it briefly. He saw the anger within those molten depths, everything that had shimmered there before yet now there was something else. He had no idea what it was, but he felt it burning within him too. Regulus shifted, her legs spreading and wrapping about him tightly. Jack’s frame was draw closer, pressed flush against her as their lips had been previously. He looked out over that beautiful face, dripping with water, looking so absolutely gorgeous even in her fury. Jack needn’t have his desires reflected in his gaze, even if it was, as Regulus would feel it as she pressed him to her. In his dormant state Jack was nothing spectacular, if anything he was what they dubbed a ‘grower’. The kisses, her ardent touch and the words that spewed so vehemently past her lips brought out in him a state of arousal he never knew existed. Within mere seconds of her touch he was as solid as a rock, his engorged shaft arched proudly before his lean frame, thick and throbbing with each beat of his heart. He was of an impressive length, she could feel every inch of him as their frames pressed flush against one another. Jack groaned lewdly as he felt that frame writhing against his own, the impossible moment was making his head swim and his body tingle.

She whispered those odious words in a gentle sigh, caressing his lips like a lover’s touch. Jack felt his brow furrowing, his body reacting angrily to them on an instinctive level. Gods, he hated this woman. The urge to smash her, to make her pay for every petty insult she had flung at him returned. He wanted to knock her from her pedestal, to show her just how unimportant she was, just like the rest of them.

“The feelin’ is mutual,” Jack shock back, even as his hips ground out against her own, causing a lance of pleasure to ripple up his spine. She felt so warm, the water around them was making him sweat and his mind was still covered by a haze of drink and rage. The sounds that came from her were bewitching, the Aperion growled like a bad woman, something he did not think such a sophisticated woman capable of. It appalled and excited him all in the same. He returned it in a fashion, a low, thundering groan escaped past his lips each time their loins ground against one another. Even before she snarled her threat against his lips Jack was moving. His hands slid from their respective places on her frame, drawing about her toned thighs and hooking his hands there. The muscles in his shoulders and upper arms tensed and corded as he hoisted her frame up from the waters and sat her down on the edge roughly.

“Like this?” He asked heatedly, his hands releasing her, only to smooth out over her thighs and shove them further apart. He arched his back, drawing closer to allow his arousal to arch between them. The underside traced against her lower abdomen, gliding over the gem glistening there. One hand slid to the base of his girth and guided himself to her damp slit, the underside of his flared head brushing down in a quick swipe. Jack hissed as he felt the heat there, but he didn’t hesitate, his backside tensed and with every ounce of strength the Dyanmis thrust into the Aperion. He vented his anger, his rage, his lust all at once. Jack’s head snapped back and a feral cry of ecstasy escaped his lips. His voice bounced sharply off the walls, so fierce it hurt even his ears. The sensation was like nothing he had ever experienced before, the warmth, the tightness, the absolute bliss of penetration. One hand grasped at her shoulder, clinging there while the other grasped the edge of the tub for support. Jack didn’t remain long, just enough time to savor the sensation fully before he retreated. Already his heart was racing out of control in his chest, his blood boiling over and the pleasure…it was like nothing he knew. Jack moaned lewdly, lost in the moment as his eyes closed his sleek hips withdrawing to draw from her almost fully. Only then did he offer one more thrust, which would prove to be his final. Jack slammed forth against that lithe figure with the same intensity as before, bucking her up against him before he felt himself simply burst.

Jack came hard, so hard in fact it stole his breath away. Nothing more than a gasping cry of surprise and bliss fell past his lips. That shaft swelled sharply before giving a full length twitch, the head flaring before a volley of white hot seed burst forth with volcanic intensity. Jack clung to Regulus as he felt his release, holding her fast by where her shoulder met her neck. He grunted and clenched his jaw, the muscles tensing nearly to the point of pain. Another thick volley of seed filled her as his hips instinctively bucked against her own. And as quick as the rage had come over him, it started to abate, leaving the Dyanmis gasping for breath, his limbs tingling and his mind slowly clearing.
 
That kiss had taken her by surprise. She’d be lying, though, if she denied that she’d wanted it from him. Maybe in a different manner, but she’d wanted it nonetheless. Rather than have the time to nitpick every single one of her actions that lead her here, pressed against the rim of the tub, her legs spread wide to a virtual stranger, she went with it. Or rather, she was taken along with it. Control was no longer a concept to her. It felt…as if someone had flipped a switch. Good, proper Regulus had been replaced by a seething rage monster that she was not entirely unfamiliar with. She’d felt this sort of anger before, the kind of anger that twisted her stomach, that made her doubt everything – but never transformed into sheer, unadulterated lust. In these heated moments, as much as she hated him, she could admit to herself that she’d never wanted someone so badly either. There was no time to contemplate on the “why” of the matter. She just needed.

He was inexperienced. To be fair, most would be, compared to her, but it wasn’t a source of annoyance for her. Between those greedy, rage-filled kisses, the click of their teeth would cause her to hiss. There was no sign of the teacher of Loving; instead, just a nearly feral woman, hell bent on claiming that which she wanted. No, what she needed, what she deserved. And she’d kiss back as hard as him, grappling. His vulgar language, his bravado – all it did was add dry kindling to an already blazing fire. As his fingernails bit into the smooth flesh of her rear, she winced. She knew she’d have welts, whenever this was done, but then again, so would he – several times her fingernails had scored into his back, pressing him closer, demanding that he enter her. So turnabout was fair play.

His fingers snarling into her thick, wet mane, she was brought out of that haze for moments, her ears barely registering his statement that he’d do what he wanted. Instead, there was the mild sting as he tightened his grip, forcing her away. It would come at an opportune time, giving her the precious moments she needed to catch her breath. The last kiss had lasted so long her vision had started to swim. And as long as it seemed that he wanted what she did, there would be no complaint from her. “As long as what you want is me,” she purred against his lips, emboldened by her anger, letting the mad rush of emotion take her tongue, “we’ll be fine. Still hate you. Hate you,” she paused, letting his lips crash against hers again, their tongues dueling, “So much,” she added, when they’d briefly break apart again.

As he grew against her, her growl softened, just barely, into a soft, begging mewl. Even she wasn’t fully aware that she’d made such a compliant sound. As his heated flesh nudged against the magenta gem on her lower body, her body tensed, and she gasped, momentarily overwhelmed. The gasp was quickly replaced by a full on shriek as he plunged into her, spearing her with a single thrust. Her body convulsed around his, her fingernails ripping gouges into his back. Her head was titled back, her eyes squeezed shut, and all language fled her. It’d hurt, that deep collide – he was much stronger than her. But more than the pain was the immense pleasure of finally, finally, getting what she needed so desperately. Something similar to a sob left her as she lowered her head to his shoulder, wrapping him up, preparing herself for the ride…

And then he pumped once more and she felt him burst inside of her, impatient twitchings of his length.

She couldn’t register what happened. She clung tighter to him, giving him a gentle squeeze with her kegels. But his body didn’t lie – he was already starting to slip out of her, his seed hotter than the water that surrounded them. Her eyes opened, and she looked down at his shuddering back, at the thin lines of blood her fingernails had brought to the surface.

She sputtered, incredulous. Then, absolutely apoplectic, she shoved him off of her, careful to untangle herself from his form. Standing up, the water lapped at her dark pubic hair, washing away the mingled strands of white that oozed lazily from her. Her form was nearly trembling; she was so enraged, so...still heated. Yes, that was it – there was anger, yes, at being denied, but it was quickly replaced with sheer, unmitigated, indomitable will. She WAS going to get what she needed from him, regardless if he was up to it or not. And, with a strength that could be called ‘freakishly Herculean’, she hauled him out of the bath with one arm, and proceeded to half-drag, half support him as they stumbled to the bed. Even the bite of the broken wine glass under her bare feet didn’t slow her down.

With a water-logged beep, the serving robot began its thankless task of cleaning.

+++++++++++++

His body made a slight squeak as she dragged it across the smooth floor, before, with another burst of strength, she tossed him onto the edge of the bed. All of this was done without a sound, her face an inexpressive mask. It wasn’t frightening as it could have been – rather, it was a show of great calculation. Something, in time, he’d learn that was rare for her. Yes, now, she showed him the face of the great Aperion brain – the one that never stopped thinking, that had a way out of everything.

Still wordlessly, she pulled him closer to the edge of the bed, had him sit up. And without the slightest hint of decorum, flung his legs open. Dropping to her knees between them, she leaned forward, and captured his flaccid member with her mouth. She hadn’t once asked how he was feeling, if it was okay; it was clear by her body language that “no” wouldn’t have been an acceptable answer. In that single stroke, she’d engulfed him, before slowly letting her lips slide off of him. She’d been overeager; needed to reposition herself better to do this right. Rising to all fours, she tilted her rear into the air as she took the tip of his member into her mouth, tracing the lines of the fluted head with feather light touches of her tongue. Flickering over his head, into the dip of flesh, across the swollen rim, her touch now was surprisingly tender. She wouldn’t suck hard, no – not yet. She was teasing, gently prodding, coaxing him back into the state that she wanted.

And in the midst of these ministrations, she boldly looked up at him, her mouth firmly enclosed around him. Her pupils were so dilated that her irises were the merest hint of gold around them, the depths of her lust, her passion, inexpressible. Those eyes threatened to swallow him whole, the hatred replaced with raw desire. In these moments, with this little bit of tenderness, all that she’d felt before had come boiling to the surface. Some rationality had returned, but not in the fashion that she would have liked. No, the rationality here was to express how she wanted him, that she wanted him to want her, that she wanted them to be joined, and joined properly. That she had much to show him. Much that she wanted to, longed to show him.

Pulling her face off of his phallus with a soft pop, she lowered her head momentarily, to catch her breath, and then, to run her tongue lazily, sloppily, down the side of his phallus, pressing the soft flesh of her cheek into him. Repeating the slow drag up to his head, she sucked, lightly, before taking him into her mouth in one fell stroke. Under her lips, he would gradually grow tumescent, not quite erect, not quite flaccid. She didn’t mind. As she went about her pleasurable work, she could feel her own sex throbbing, not sated, not allowing her to think much more clearly beyond obtaining what it needed.

Letting him pop from her mouth again, her voice drifted up to him, a husky whisper. The inherent musicality was still there, but this was rawer, with the same rasp as her growls before. “You’re going to take me,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes never leaving his, “You’re going to make me scream, or I’m going to murder you.” Those dilated pupils fixed on his. None of what she said was a gentle suggestion. It was a command. “I need to feel you again. Right, this time,” and she lifted up, sliding that lithe body upwards between his legs, pressing her breasts against him as she pulled up so slowly. She stopped along the long line of his body to press a biting kiss against each of his nipples, his scars a map. Pulling herself up so they were face to face, she was silent now, looking expectantly down into his face. Her body was heavy against his, her still damp pubic hair rough against his own. He could feel her through it – swollen, hot, slick. “Can you do this for me?” She trailed fingers down the side of his face, across his lips. There was a note of pleading in her voice, very light.

It was odd; the rapid changes in personality, in approach. The look she gave him now was still completely controlled by lust, tempered only moderately by a deep sense of longing. She knew, could feel that he still hated her. And, somewhere, tucked away with her logic, she hated him as well – had more reason to hate him now. But need made her in turns gentle, in turns fierce. Whatever it took to get him inside of her again, she would do.
 
It was one of those things that never happen, everyone tells themselves. Jack couldn’t rightly justify what went wrong, only that the moment was as overwhelming to his senses as it could get. She had infuriated him on a level he did not know existed and at the same time aroused him like he had never felt before. He had never wanted someone physically as he had Regulus, he wanted to dominate her, to remove that smug, angry look from her face, but he wanted to feel more than that. His arousal was very, very real, so much so he couldn’t contain himself when the intense moment finally arrived. Nothing had felt as exquisite as claiming her, from the way her body reacted, the way she tightened about him, or the screams that came from her, it had all been just too perfect.

Jack was left breathlessly and quivering, the aftermath of that intense release outlived the whole process already. His head felt light and if left to his own devices he might have just sunk into that tub and attempted to keep his head above water. His grip upon her was already loosening, even as his hips drifted back, that softening shaft slipping from her tight depths. He gave one final grunt as he slid from her fully, the exhausted and lost look taking over his face. He briefly saw her before him, standing there with that look on her own face, something like shocked or probably appalled. Once Jack had a moment he’d explain, not that he rightly had an answer. Still, the words were starting to come as Regulus moved in and hoisted him up like a water-soaked bag of potatoes. He was thrown off balance; unsure of which way was up. His feet slipped and skidded across the ground, one arm tightened about her as she half-carried, half-dragged him from the bedroom. He had some dim idea that she was dragging him out here to slit his throat, maybe brain him to death with one of the silver ice buckets the robots had brought in.

Instead, Jack found himself tossed carelessly on the bed, his frame hit the soft mattress and he let out an annoyed grunt. His face scrunched, brow furrowed as she glared up at the impassive mask of a face. Those eyes were cold, he’d seen that look before, knew exactly what was going on. Of course, he had no idea what she was thinking off, instinctively Jack straightened up, still panting from the exertion.

“Look…” He started, even as she moved in and tugged him to the edge of the bed. One hand slid out as if to stop her, but she ducked low, throwing his legs wide and throwing him further off balance. “…Wahey..!”

Jack made a noise between a gasp and a groan. She did the most unexpected thing of the evening then. For reasons he could not fathom, she was before him, taking his limp shaft into her mouth. Why in the Gods name would someone do that!? He started to argue, his hand fell to her hair; the moment was moving too quickly for his brain to process it all. He watched as she took him, drawing him fully into her mouth in an amazing feat of agility. Jack groaned in disbelief, his entire frame tensing sharply. The sensation was like no other, her mouth was hot, warm and wet, the lapping of her tongue against his overly sensitive flesh kept his legs tensed, his weight pressed to the balls of his feat. She shifted before him, slipping onto all fours with her backside lifted into the air, as if she were presenting. Jack watched in fascination as she found the tip of his head, her mouth gentle and caressing, surely nothing else could compared. The flick of over his head caused him to shudder, his hips to buck instinctively and more groans to fall past his lips. The sudden change in approach was not lost on Jack, the tenderness she displayed made him burn all the more. But it wasn’t until she peered up at him that Jack felt the arousal fully return. Her eyes were dark pits, shining with passion that could not be expressed by words. It was formless yet tangible, even only through her lips as they caressed his flesh.

“Lus,” Jack groaned, lost in the moment, in her eyes. If she had asked him anything now, he would have obeyed. Her touch was addictive, by the Gods, he wanted more of it. The familiar lust returned, though he did not feel the raw, possessive anger as before. His hand in her still wet mane slowly smoothed through it, drawing the thick locks from her face so he could watch her all the more. Without thinking he had muttered her name, the endearing nickname she had insisted upon. His mind made no distinction over it now, all he knew was he wanted her so completely. Telling her that, well, that was a different story. Jack sighed loudly as she drew from him, the slick, wet pop of her lips releasing him echoing about them. He thought she was to just take a breath, as they had done numerous times before when they kissed. Yet she moved lower, her tongue running a slow line over the side of his shaft, the warmth of her skin undeniable as she moved. Jack shuddered and quivered with each touch, his breath held deeply in his chest as she teasingly moved over him. Only when she drew back to his head was he able to breathe, a shuddering groan of acceptance as she claimed him all over again.

“Gods,” He groaned, his head rolling back, his eyes joining in briefly. Jack wanted to savor that moment, hell; he could have lounged there forever with this beautiful woman between his legs. He never knew of something this pleasurable, no one before had thought to use their mouth in this way. Damn those Aperions, he silently cursed. Yet he felt the vibration of her mouth slipping from him, the smacking pop of her release before that lovely voice brought him back to his senses. It was lower than before, but nothing detracted from its alluring quality. If anything the rasp made it all the more sensuous. He heard the words, understood their meaning, yet he had no way of retorting. His voice had left him; even as his body reacted favorably his mind was still attempting to process it all. By then she had started to rise above him, brushing herself up against him as she rose. He felt the warm fullness of her breasts against his abs before she paused, just long enough to tease each nipple. Jack hissed sharply as she bit his flesh, heightening the arousal all the more after each one.

His arms curled about her sleek waist as she slid over him, finding purchase on the sleek bend there. He found her gaze again, dark and demanding, yet her voice was light, wispy, almost pleading as she settled down against him. Jack trembled, his frame going tense against as he leaned up, tilted his head and captured her finger as it trailed across his lips. Instinctively he suckled it, using his tongue as he had against her own before. He released it with a wet smack before he leaned up and answered her question with a passionate kiss. It wasn’t like before, they didn’t literally butt heads in aggressive desire. But the feelings were still there, the fire rekindled anew as Jack shifted positions, pressing his hardening shaft against her.

“Fuck,” He broke off the kiss swiftly, his hands sliding down to her hips. “Yes.” He inisisted, his amber gaze narrowing on her own. “Let me take you. I want you…Gods I need inside you. I want to hear you scream my name. Kill me afterwards, I don’t care.” His words held a feverish note; Regulus had done well in instilling that desire once more. Jack’s hands clamped down upon her shapely hips, lifting her up just enough that he could slide between her legs.

“Right now,” His voice was insistent, as was the grinding of his hips. He was not as flexible and graceful as Regulus was; his movement was quick and trembling. The fire in his loins seared him from the inside out; the only thing that could quench it now was being inside her. Jack felt the underside of his shaft slid down against her silken folds, that familiar warm beckoning him. One hand clasped down on her backside, holding tightly as he rocked up against her yet again. It took him a few tries to find just how to do it, of course with her assistance, guiding the crown of his head against the very apex of her thighs. Jack inhaled sharply, his amber gaze locked upon their frames as they moved. But all too quickly he found her face again, his attention drawn to it fully. She was nothing short of hypocritical in that moment, the hatred abated for the time being. Yet Jack knew it was there, just underneath the surface. Lust had won out over them now, while hers was easily controlled and contained, Jack didn’t have such an easy time with it. Already he was growing frantic, much as he had before. But the sharp edge was gone, in its place something far more intense and lasting resided. Jack found her lips again, whispering her name feverishly against them as he pressed himself inside. He had little control over the situation now, with her in his lap; he could but start the process. She could draw away if she wanted to; though he knew that from her words she would not. Neither one of them was leaving this bed till the deed was done.
 
She would have gladly continued her happy work between his legs, administering to his throbbing shaft. Oh, the sounds he made! Sweeter than any of her newer students, fresh-faced and eager to learn Loving, this was better. More primal. More from someone completely untried. And, in the battleground of her emotions, the tenderness that compelled her to teach was rapidly turning out to be the victor – aided by the deep feeling that churned her stomach, stoked the flame in her labia, that which had no name, but which she surrendered wholly to. Her move to her hands and knees was deliberate – a position she’d never quite taken before with anyone else. Not that she was a stranger to this particular act, but to present herself as ripe for the taking, well, that was a new thing. She usually enjoyed control in her teachings; she was the one controlling all of the actions. She was the one that allowed entrance, who guided.

With each involuntary buck of his hips, she’d adjusted on his phallus accordingly, taking him in deeply, nearly swallowing him without a bit of trouble. Saliva flecked the corners of her mouth, glistening as she gradually bobbed up and down his shaft. When he groaned that nickname, it was as if someone snapped their fingers in her ear. For a moment, her pupils diminished, those luminous gold irises returning to normal, as if she’d awoken from a dream. It was only momentary; the desire washing over her again as she returned to his heated flesh. The faint crisp taste from the fragranced water, the bite of salt from his sweat, the underlying taste of him, all delighted her tongue as she bit down lightly into his nipple, teasing the firm nub as she’d done with the head of his cock, her damp body easily sliding against his as she moved further up him. Incandescent joy reflected into those golden pools when his arms went around his waist, and in a remarkably uncharacteristic act, she leaned forward, rubbing her cheek against his in a gesture of uncontrolled affection. His lips against her fingers, she turned her head, looking at him with a luminous grin that caught the corners of her eyes, suggested that perhaps there was something beneath everything else, the slip of sunlight through an overcast day.

After long, much too long, their lips combined again, still fueled by that unnatural, insatiable burning. Her tongue, pliant against his, no longer sought to conquer his mouth. Instead, it felt as if she wanted to willingly share the space, invite it into her own mouth, to extent the caress to whatever limb she could control. His hands on her hips, she rolled them into his grasp easily, physically handing herself over to him, allowing him this moment of control, of want. “Then take it,” she whispered, her hair sticking to her face, her back, in intricate whorls. And she helped him now – there would be no gentle teasing now, no coy overtures with what she wanted. Her hand enclosed atop his, guiding him to her plump lips. One eager thrust, then another, and she shifted, guiding him, moaning low with each attempt, with each heated attempt. When he finally entered her, his name slipped past her lips in a long, sonorous sigh, mingling with her own name on his mouth.

Lifting her hips as he thrust upwards, she controlled how much of him she took in. Unlike the hard thrust of before, she wanted to savor this, savor him, and now she was in a much better position to do so. With an elegant lifting of her torso, she straddled him, rocking her weight forward on her thighs as she sat atop him, his head just barely within her. She trembled with the exertion of her motion, rocking her hips forward, then back, rolling his head forward, back with her, teasing that any moment, any time now, he’d be able to feel all of her, that she was going to come down and accept all of him. But slowly, agonizingly, she kept up that rocking pace, only accepting him a little at a time, a slip here, a slip there…until she herself tired of the tease, and lowered herself fully onto him, sitting on him so that his sack was flush with her slit, with the cleft of her rear, and the low groan of his name was the most musical sound she’d made that night.

Settling atop him now, she adjusted those powerful legs, shifting her weight, and keeping him firmly buried within her, rocked her hips back and forth, rolling up as she moved forward, down as she moved back, smooth as silk. He fit snug, almost too snug, within her, her body grasping his phallus as she continued to push and pull him where she wanted him to go, against that spot within her that throbbed in tune with her heart, that spurred her to move faster. She was so heated against him, each stroke sending more thick fluid from her, still slightly tinged white from his own seed. Sitting upright atop him, she reached down, looking for his hands. Finding them, she entwined his fingers within her own, and picked up the pace, rocking against him in earnest. The words that left her were no longer in Standard, but High Aperion, a language rarely heard in the Commonwealth, let alone something that a Dyanmis would encounter. They flowed from her, as easy as her earlier snarls had; cooing birdsong among the occasional growl of desire. It wouldn’t take a master translator to tell that she was praising him, how he was making her feel, singing her enjoyment to whoever would listen. Her back was arched high, her eyes closed in absolute bliss, the dark lashes casting faint shadows across her cheeks.

Slowly, coming back to the waking world, she leaned over him, pressing her lips to his ear, the side of his face, his throat. Her hands let go of his, and she shifted again, reaching between them to grasp onto his shoulders to anchor herself. Her fingers biting into his flesh, still leaning over him, her body covering his, she lifted her hips nearly off of him all together, leaving only his head within her, and let her hips drop, colliding into his with a fleshy slap. She bit the side of his neck now, repeating the motion, slamming her hips down into his harder than she had before. Oh, yes, in addition to the welts they both gave each other, there would be some bruising. The misplaced anger, seemingly forgotten, reared its head here, and with increasing force, she slammed her hips into his, tightening as she would pull off of him. With each collide of their hips, she gasped in pleasure, sounding that she was surprised by what he was doing to her, or rather, what she was doing to him.

Before long, she lifted from him again, still holding firmly to his shoulders, and began to ride him in earnest, lifting herself off of him with each long stroke, and letting herself literally drop back onto him, her genial cooing rising into a crescendo of sharp bitten off moans. Every once in a while, Standard would return to her, enough for him to catch what she was saying – “Harder,” “More,” guttural groans of “Yessss….” Trailing off into a hiss of pleasure. Taking his hands, she moved them to her rapidly bouncing breasts, encouraged him to play with her erect nipples as she continued to bounce atop him with wild abandon, her mind blank, nothing beyond how much more she had to consume of him to reach that glittering peak that was growing ever closer. And he could feel it as well – the erratic pulsing of her walls, the stilling, the trembling, those moans that grew ever louder, the sweat that beaded her temples, the red flush of her chest.

Then, suddenly, when it felt that dam would burst, she stopped. Settled slowly atop him, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her heart threatened to burst through her rib cage, and her much battered sex was beginning to grow sore. However…

She leaned back, still atop him, and spread her legs lewdly to him, lifting her hips a bit to show him, should he care to look down, how he looked entering her, how he looked when she pulled off of him. Then she’d rock forward, sitting up straight now again, her legs still spread almost impossibly wide atop him as she picked up the pace nearly instantaneously, the wet slick of him slipping in and out of her serving as a counterpoint to her moans. And now, her quickening couldn’t be ignored; couldn’t be fooled out of happening. Her breath caught in her throat, sounding more like she was crying than moans of pleasure, her tone growing desperate, heated. His name, once scarcely scattered in her language, became a more common point, each time he’d penetrate her, his name was on her lips, higher, louder, higher still, louder still, until it culminated – a wailing howl of his name as her orgasm claimed her, high as a war cry. Her muscles clenched, convulsed around him, squeezing him, demanding from him the reward of his seed, even as she trembled, almost uncontrollably, atop him – and wonder of wonders, she kept going, kept bouncing atop him though she was so wet, so tight, that he’d nearly pop out of her with each stroke. She’d keep going, keep pushing, until he came with her.

And even beyond that, she wanted more – more of him, more of this. She didn’t have the words for it now, whatever semblance of logic, of language, had entirely left her. Looking down at him with those passion blown pupils, she knew it was clear that she, no, this wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.
 
He was so very, very close to feeling that incredible sensation once more. Instinctively his hips rolled up against that lovely frame straddling his lap, his engorged shaft gliding against her blindly. Regulus seemed to offer some assistance by shifting above him, which caused Jack to express his gratitude with another husky groan of desire. Yet when he finally felt himself gaining entrance, forcing those silken folds apart once more she did the unthinkable and lifted up. Jack instantly tensed, a disgruntled growl rumbling up from his chest as he felt himself literally slipping away from his goal. He had no intention of claiming her as hurriedly as he had before, though no doubt the moment would go to his head all too quickly. One hand slid from her frame, brushed out against the sheets at their side and bunched them in his fist. It was mostly for support as he arched his back, pressing his weight to the balls of his feet and offered a stout rock of his hips upwards. He was intending to claim her then and there, but she was always one step ahead of him. Her position allowed her to lift up just enough to never truly allow more than the crest of his rigid head to press into her. He could feel the heat, the undeniable flame of her arousal searing his flesh even then. Her thick passions clung to his skin, or was that water? He couldn't rightly tell which was which at the moment, they were still mostly soaked from their explosive coupling in the bathroom. The need to even bother to think about drying off was as far from his mind as was his initial anger towards her. All he wanted now was to be inside this beautiful woman, to hear her say his name once more and to take him to that point of pleasure he had never known existed.

Each little wiggle of her hips caused another disappointed moan to escape him, her name chastely whispered as his free hand slid down over her rear and clasped a handful of the firm flesh into his palm. Try as he might to force her hips down with one arm he just couldn't do it. The subtle pressure he excreted was not enough, once more she impressed Jack with her physical strength. Finally though, the agonizing tease came to an end, the anticipation had been so complete that Jack almost lost it then and there as she allowed herself to slid down him. He felt every inch of that tight sheath consuming him, urging him within until their bodies were flush against one another. Jack's lips parted and a wordless moan of absolute rapture spilled past. The look on his face was a mixture of desire and surprise, the confusion furrowed his brow as the logical parts of his mind tried to understand what was going on. To the Dynamis, something like this had never existed in life, mating was to produce offspring that that was it. It was more of a duty than anything, just like serving in the military. But this, Jack didn't know what this was, but by all thirteen Gods he loved it! Regulus adjusted herself over him, those powerful thighs rippling and tensing as she adjusted her weight. It was a sight to behold, though Jack was easily distracted at the moment by the entirety of the ravishing woman in his lap. She rocked against him, causing another series of hissing moans to escape from his clenched jaw. The movements came then, her frame rocking, undulating like an ocean wave over him. Each time she rose she came crashing back down with the same intensity he had felt before, each claiming of her treasure sent another wave of pleasure through him as well as a dizzying sensation within his mind. He was losing himself in the moment, something Jack could rarely afford to do. He was always so keenly aware of his surroundings, but at the moment if asked he wouldn't even be able to tell you the color the sheets he was sitting on. Nothing in this room, the house, the entire countryside existed by this woman. The only thing that snapped him back to reality, at least for a moment, was when she took his hands, interlacing their fingers and using them for support. He tensed his muscles and held them in place, his fingers tightening about her own, his hips instinctively rocking up against her own to meet those eager thrusts. The sounds she made were in a language he knew nothing of, though he didn't truly need to understand the words to know their meaning. His own sounds were guttural and bestial in comparison, stifled grunts of pleasure through a clenched jaw, all the while his eyes ravishing her upper frame, taking in the sight of her body over his own.

Just when he was growing accustomed to watching her move Regulus leaned in, seemingly rousing from the reverie of pleasure as her lips pressed hungry to his flesh. She kissed over him as she released his hands, grasped his shoulders and dug in. It was a combination of several different sensations that struck him at his core, the resounding gasp at the sudden bite of her fingernails, the lifting of his brow followed by the quick exhalation of air. Most of it was lost as he lifted herself higher than ever, nearly drawing from him before. For the moment he thought she repeat her teasing, by the Gods he would have nothing to do with that now. Yet she did nothing of the sort, instead she came crashing down upon him with the the full strength of that frame. The resounding crash of flesh against wet fleshed echoed as loudly as Jack's cry, the latter resulting from the sensation of their joining frames coupled with the urgent bite of his neck. He felt the smoldering embers of their anger rising with the slamming of those shapely hips down against his own. Each one was accompanied by another groan, another straining of his frame and another throb of his thick girth within her.

Jack tried to form a few words as the pace began in earnest though nothing more than a series of “Fuck” and “Oh shit” fell past his lips. The former seemed to be his preferred conveyance for the sensation he felt. His hips did not remain idle as the pace quickened and strengthened, Jack found and matched Regulus' tempo easily, he had always been a quicker learner out in the field. His hands soon found her breasts with her guiding, to which he eagerly squeezed and kneaded. He tilted his head forward and buried his face in her cleavage, moaning aloud as his lips ravished her dark flesh, biting, licking, suckling every inch of it he could. He soon found himself flicking his tongue out across her nipples, focusing on one at a time when he could. Yet it wasn't until she came to a sudden and dramatic pause that Jack found that he could latch on. And that he did, his lips wrapped about her right nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a lewd slurp as his tongue circled it feverishly. His hands were pawing at her now, fingertips biting into her flesh as he squeezed and tugged, urging those ripe globes of flesh together. It wasn't until she finally leaned back that he opened his gaze and peered up at her. At first his gaze lingered intently upon her beautiful visage, though with some subtle body language and the feeling of her shifting body, Jack glanced down at those toned thighs spread wide. It was a sight to see, something he had rarely given any time or thought to. The very nature of their position allowed for such a display, Jack felt a moan catch in his throat as he watched himself slid from her, glistening with her arousal, only to be forced back within by the graceful roll of her hips.

Yet just as before, when he started to savor the moment and lose himself, Regulus changed it up. She had slowed her pace so he could watch, or so he thought, but now the undeniable drive of picking up the pace caught up with them. Jack's hand's returned to their typical positions, one grasping the sheets and the other resting upon the swell of her hip. He gripped her silken flesh tightly, if only to urge her down upon him as he thrust up against her desperate movements. There was no denying the desperation behind those movements, nor the way she all but screamed his name. Never before had a person called to him like this, singing and wailing all at once of the pleasure that he bestowed upon her. The inflation of his ego at such a realization was tremendous. How could he not let it go to his head when he had such a beautiful woman bouncing in his lap like a raving lunatic, screaming to high heaven and singing his praise? Jack wanted more of it, wanted absolutely everything that she could give him. Gradually his place underneath her shifted from one of idle assistance to active urgency. He wasn't so much as sitting on the bed as hovering over it now, his sleek hips rolling and thrusting up against hers, matching the tempo perfectly to cause their frames to slam forcefully against one another. He could have stayed in that position for far longer, but it was when she looked back down at him with those massive pupils that Jack felt something inside him snap.

“Oh fuck,” Jack snarled as he felt himself pushing up, reacting more on instinct than coherent thought. His hand upon her hip lifted and slid into her damp mane, his fingers spreading and sinking into the thick, tangled mass near the base of her skull. He gripped her tightly, his other hand sliding up from the sheets to grasp at her side. Jack pushed up from the bed, holding Regulus before him as he shifted his weight and spun, throwing her down upon the bed while his frame all but collapsed down upon her own. She had claimed the dominate role for long enough, he wanted to feel the rush of claiming her now.

“How close...” He started in a husky rumble, though he had no need to finish his sentence as he leaned over her upon his elbows and claimed her once more. He forced her thighs to spread as lewdly as they had before as he claimed the space between them, forcing her apart once more even as those muscles tensed and pulsated about him. He felt her warmth, that honey thick desire that trickled out over him. He pondered briefly what she might taste like even as he started up that brutal pace once more. Jack reached for her left leg, only to throw it over his broad shoulder. His knees dug into the mattress and the entire bed shook with each desperate thrust he bestowed upon her. He grunted lewdly, gritting his teeth as his head tilted back with each thrust, perspiration beaded and trickled through his dark locks, the strain was starting to get to his well-built frame but he had no intentions of stopping. He felt the familiar tingle of pleasure in his loins but so far he had been denied the resolution he sought. They weren't done, that much was evident, just as who was in control at the moment. Yet that could change in an instant, Jack knew that much and it was that very realization that made the excitement grow all the more.
 
She hit the bed with a heavy thud, a soft squeak of surprise leaving her as she flopped into the mattress. Blinking rapidly, she seemed to struggle to figure out what had just happened - until the first hard thrust from him. With a sharp groan, she seemed to curl in on herself, rocking her hips upwards to meet the slam of his hips eagerly. One arm wrapped about his neck, the other scrambled to find purpose on the mattress, the sheets, a pillow, something, to pull her further up the bed. With the added force of his thrust, she was practically shoved up the mattress, her lower back nestled by the pillows at the head of the bed. Satisfied with this position, she snaked her other arm about his neck, pulling him close.

Her lips fumbling for his in their new position, she used her newfound position as leverage to rock back into him, each new thrust sending a panting gasp from her. Her voice was frayed; her cries cracking. Even with as large as the room was, the pair of them weren’t exactly quiet. Her legs spread easily with the slightest nudge of his legs, her labia lips swollen and a deep pink, her honey in thick drops against her entrance, collecting within the dark curls of her pubic hair. Her chest heaving, her nipples flushed a deep red under the dark brown of her skin, swollen, bee-stung from his sucking and biting. Sweat trailed between them, a thin rivulet rolling down the curved arc of her stomach to pool in the dip of her navel. Her hair was a collection of sweat damp snarls against her sides, sticking to him as well.

“Again…?” she managed, to his question, sounding surprised. The sheer force from her last orgasm had been enough to rattle her senses; atop him, it had been easy to want to keep pushing, to keep chasing, to see if she could go ever higher. She was no stranger to multiple orgasms - but to have a second one right on the heels on one so intense, that was something a bit different. It had been synaptic shattering, sparks of color behind her eyes, higher reason leaving. If someone had asked her her name, she wouldn’t be able to give it. Though there was the slightest ache from the incredible clench of her muscles at that moment, it was quickly abandoned the minute they’d readjusted, him comfortably between her legs, spreading her as if she just existed for him.

Now, below him, her brain felt rattled; the air around her hazy. Looking up at him, seeing the raw lust in his eyes…flipped that switch back on. Her arms tightened around his neck, and her nose brushed against his, before she leaned up, forcing his lips against hers. In moments her mouth was open, her tongue questing for his, a keening cry breaking past her as he reached for her leg and threw it over his shoulder. She was exposed on a different level now; she fumblingly wrapped her right leg about his waist, forcing him back inside of her with each thrust.

Though the bed didn’t have a headboard, it didn’t stop it from making a rhythmic thud against the wall that grew louder with each slam of their hips. The nightstands rattled; a lamp fell from one and shattered on the floor. Not that she cared; so lost in the feel of his thick length inside of her. With each thrust, she was getting closer, that tickle within her growing stronger - surprising her beyond all belief. She had thought, potentially, she was done, but….Her left arm slipped free from his neck, reached below them to straighten out her left leg, spreading her flushed cunt further for him. Unwrapping her right leg from his hip, she paused in her writhing beneath him to direct his right hand to the back of her right knee. Though they both were completely slick with sweat, she struggled to grasp his left arm, to put his hand against the back of her knee, encouraging him to push down on the limb, stretching her further, holding her open to him. Now, with her legs in a near split, all he would have to do was look beneath them to watch himself slide in and out of her, her puffy labia lips flecked white from her own cum and his.

And still, in this seemingly impossible position, she rocked her hips back into his, meagerly, before…

She actually just gave up. Not in the sense that she stopped participating, but in the sense that she let herself go entirely to his control. He felt entirely too good, his hips slamming into hers, occasionally with bruising impact against the arc of her pelvis, and trying to manipulate him into giving her more of what she wanted was just impossible. He was doing that, and then some, in droves. And forcing her eyes back open, she looked up into his, into his burning amber gaze, searching. Wondering. A part of her logic flickered on; lightly chided, saying he was inexperienced, was only after his own gain. It was quickly drowned under a tidal wave of sheer, animalistic lust. “Again,” she growled, with more certainty that she had before. He’d -unknowingly- issued a challenge, and one she was all too eager to take. It would be a slow building back up for her; working her way back from the ground to the top of that mountain, and despite the soreness that sang through her muscles now, that was growing louder with each giving moment, it would be ignored. She wanted to feel that peak again, if not stronger than before, and she wanted him to explode inside her again - wanted every bit that he would give her and then some. She would take it all, if he only but gave her the slightest taste of it. Arching up, she sealed her determination with a growling kiss against his lips. The moment for talking had passed; she didn’t know of anything else to say; pushed past even the most ecstatic of pleasure, she was in new territory.

Only one thing she knew of could make this better - and that was entirely under her power.

Before his thrusts could bring her closer, with a slight twist of her hips and lifting of her left leg out of his iron grip, she actually twisted free beneath him. The torrent of honey from her made it easy for his cock to slide out of her, though she gave a soft moan of loss as it did. Temporary - she had to remind herself it was only temporary. Still beneath him, she lightly turned on to be on her hands and knees, and pushed her rear into his crotch, demanding, teasing. She could have said a dozen filthy things to him, encouraging him to take her like the animals they were acting as, to claim her as he had before, to use his greater physical strength to pin her to the mattress.

But she didn’t.

In her new position, she merely looked over her shoulder at him, her chest and stomach heaving with exertion, those lust-blown eyes hooded over, her swollen lips parted. Reached between her legs, placed two fingers firmly on either side of her labia, and parted herself for him, waiting.
 
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If Jack thought that flipping this woman over on her back would keep her from trying to resume control he was sorely mistaken. Or at least it felt like such, the way she moved, undulating underneath him, her hips in constant motion, the muscles of her thighs trembling against him as she strained against his taut flesh, it was all so infuriating and intoxicating at the very same time. He wanted more of her, even as his hips desperately thrust against her own with all he could offer. Never before had Jack felt this level of arousal, this kind of hunger for another's flesh. Their lips found one another's over and over, each time their retreated Jack found himself wanting more even as he gasped for breath. Damn her to all seven Hells for doing this to her. He wasn't entirely convinced that she didn't know some form of magic, something with subtle somatic components he had missed. It had to be some kind of arcane spell that made him want her so bad, each moan that fell past her lips was another lump of coal tossed onto the inferno that seared him from the inside out.

Jack felt his muscles going stiff and burning from the strain, yet he managed to keep up his hungry pace, sleek hips thrusting forth with well-timed thrusts. He arched his back in an attempt to offer something more, anything to feel himself deeper within her. Each time their hips pressed flush against one another a flash of something, maybe light, or some kind of heat, flashed before his eyes. It was like some kind of vision, each time he claimed this woman he was finding another piece of the puzzle. He had no idea what was at the end, what he would find and what possible significance it might hold for him. She was the enemy, even if those above him told them they were working together. Her kind was the cause of all the woes in the world, or so the great churning propagation machine would have him think so. Now, in this most intimate of moments though, Jack truly didn't see anything different between the two of them. They were both people, hungry hungry people, thrust into a situation out of their control. But this, what they were doing now, was so very much in their control. Despite being in a foreign land, in a foreign house, in a foreign bed claiming a foreign woman, Jack had never felt more in control of himself and his destiny. With that brought a certain level of comfort, though the sting from the constant slapping of damp flesh against flesh was certain to skew any thoughts of comfort.

His mind raced along with his heart, which thundered in his chest so fiercely he could feel it in his ears. Just when he thought that he was gaining the upper hand, just as that body settled underneath him and allowed him to claim her as he saw fit, there was a flash of something upon that beautiful face that threw him off. He should have seen it coming, she was the devious type, the beautiful ones always were. If they were on the field of battle he would have kept her pinned down by his vice-like grip, but now, in the heat of passion, she easily wriggled free. It wasn't that hard, not really, they were both slick with perspiration at the moment, slipping from his hands was just a manner of shifting about at the right angle, which she did perfectly. He marveled at the agility it took to move like that, though before he could linger on it he felt himself slipping from her. His lips parted and Jack let out a pitiful groan of disappointment. Already words of anger were drawing out across his tongue, just what did she think she was doing? But she made it all very clear just what she was doing, moving deftly she positioned herself upon her hands and knees and presented to him. The sight froze him to the core, that glistening shaft, coated in her honey thick passions, twitched briefly before he felt it nestle between her perfectly formed cheeks. She wasn't still, was she ever? Jack watched as she silently encouraged him to continue where they left off, but it wasn't until she looked back at him from over her shoulder that Jack snapped back to reality. Their eyes meet briefly before Jack glanced down and witnessed further just how intent she was to have him back within her. She parted those glistening folds, giving him in no subtle terms just what he desired.

He greeted the display with a low, honest moan of absolute delight. His hands were upon her quickly, though they were to clasp down upon the curve of her rear, take her in both hands and squeeze and knead. He felt the firmness there, even as it gave just enough for him to squeeze. It was a truly spectacular sensation, one that he savored for far too long. Only after indulging himself for several long moments did Jack relent, though he finished with a flourish of his hand, which promptly slapped across her right cheek before it settled between them. He securely wrapped his fingers about the base of his shaft which offered the needed guidance to position his bulbous head back against her. Once Jack felt the incredible heat of her arousal he instinctively drew forward, pressing himself flush against her till she relented and accepted him. The pressure was incredible, as was the explosion of pleasure as he claimed her fully yet again. Jack did not thrust forth like the hungry glutton he was, instead, for that brief moment he allowed himself to draw forth at a slow but purposeful pace. He groaned the entire time, one long breath that came from low in his throat. His hands slid up over her curves, coming to grasp at the swell of her hips as his own finally nestled against her pert rear.

“Fuck,” Jack uttered lowly, lost once more in the transcendent pleasure that the moment brought with it. He savored her warmth and tightness, the position added a certain familiarity that Jack couldn't deny. More often than not his breeding partners preferred this position. It offered with it easy access and departure, along with the lovely fact of not having to look at him the entire time. That had been fine with him, since he rather detested all of them. That wasn't entirely true, not all of them, there was at least one that he could tolerate. Why at a moment like this that Maban flashed into his mind's eye Jack couldn't fathom. Perhaps it was the position, or the fact that the time spent breeding with the short, coppery haired Wizard wasn't half-bad. Nothing compared to this moment, but the similarities were enough to spark something inside his brain, something to ponder about at a later time. Now was time to bring out those feral screams from this lovely beauty before him. Jack relented and drew his hips back, allowing himself to draw from her almost fully. He purposefully let the rigid of his head slip free, only to rake it against her damp flesh. The sensation sent chills up his spine and another lustful groan from his lips. His hands redoubled their grip upon her hips before Jack finally set into motion the inevitable ending of their second session. He struck hard and fast this time, the thrust accompanied by a sharp, wet slap that was lost in the fierce cries that came from them both. From his position he watched her body react to the thrust before he delivered another and another. Each time he let his gaze ravish her frame, watching the way she moved against him, reacted to his claiming and offered her own maneuvers in retort. While he had already known the fact she was an experienced lover, it was only starting to fully dawn on him just how much she overshadowed him. She moved like a trained dancer, purposeful and graceful, even when she was snarling and howling like a wolf. Compared to his own movements it was perfection, Jack felt sloppy and unskilled with the fast, brutal thrusts he delivered. There was so much he could learn, he thought to himself, even as he felt her tighten about him and cry out yet again. He had great potential, or she was just a very good actress. He knew the later to not be entirely true, sure she could scream on demand if she wanted to, but there was no way she could will her body to react in the way it was doing right now if she wasn't truly enjoying it. Jack took that with a certain smug satisfaction.

One hand slid up and over her side, only to tangle itself into her long, wavy mane. He grasped at the thick, glistening tendrils of hair and offered a tug just as his other hand came to settle upon the sweep of flesh between her shoulder and neck.

“You...Hnhnn...like this?” Jack spat out with each groan that fell past his lips. He grunted out the words with each thrust he delivered, deliberately slowing his pace so he could get the words out. They were needless, at this point, but Jack felt the need for their reassurance nonetheless. He wanted more of that feeling, knowing that he was bestowing upon her something that few others could. After a sudden bout of furious thrusts Jack collapsed forward, his hand slipping from her hair to grasp at the sheets underneath her. The hand on her shoulder slid further, his fingers curling about her throat as his head bowed forward and his lips ravished her perspiring flesh. He kissed over her shoulder to her neck, causally tossing her mane aside so he could ravish her neck with his lips. He had a final goal in mind though, even as he continued to pummel that gorgeous rear into submission his lips sought her own. He had never kissed someone in this position, the last thing one of his breeding partners wanted was to be near his face. If anything it heightened the moment, drove the man further and offered a boost of adrenaline that his body sorely needed. All the while he felt the edge returning, being pushed up and further through his loins. She had done much to set him back up after his quick release, if anything it provided a certain amount of buffering that he used to his advantage. Yet with each thrust he delivered he was running himself thin, that thick shaft swelled in prelude to what was to come, already Jack felt himself passing the point of no return. Still he wanted that kiss once more, he was now more desperate than ever to taste her lips once again. No doubt it would be the last time he had the chance.
 
The city of Butua was about 4-5 hours away from the boonies of Naqada, and about 10 to 12 hours away from the capital of Capua. A rising town caught in the middle, it offered a “quainter” side of the Aperion Commonwealth. It wasn’t a marvel of modern technology – in fact, it seemed that the technology out here was something close to what might be called “antiquated.” That, of course, was a carefully thought out marketing ploy. Butua made its money by offering bored Aperions a break from it all – rustic without being TOO rustic. It was a greener town than Capua, but not given to fully cultivated lands and carefully tended orchards like Naqada. Neatly bisected by the Sindu river, the city was divided into North Butua and South Butua – the South more green, the north more technological. And within the north and south, there were satellite hub towns, some little more than blips on a screen; others much more prominent. Maban Grian Cloch was lavishly set up in Zairb, one of the major providences of South Butua.

Not that she cared a lick about it.

Okay, maybe she cared a little.

Since she’d arrived a few hours earlier, she’d done her best to compose herself and not gawk at all that surrounded her. For one thing, the greenery – she’d never seen such flowers, such trees! Cobblestone streets! Elegant street lights! Open air cafes full of wonderful smells! And the people! While they only seemed to come in one major template – tall and beautiful-, they came in all colors, all manners of dress, and they certainly didn’t seem to be…shy. As soon as she separated from the rest of the Dynamis Collective members, she was confronted by an Aperion pair entangled in a very public embrace in front of a beautiful (she’d get tired of that real soon, “beautiful”) fountain that seemed to be carved of living crystal. Stopped shock still, she was mildly horrified to watch them repeat the action – apparently they were posing for a photo. Tourists. To her surprise, they’d even started a conversation with her (her fault, entirely, for standing like a loon) about where to find the best places to eat.


Surprised, and well, a little flattered – she figured she was reasonably cute by Dyanmis standards, but to be readily accepted by people who were noted for their beauty? She couldn’t stop the flood of pride from filling her chest. Casting that superficial luminous spell on herself had worked out, after all. And so she’d chatted along with them, listening and not listening. She heard accents, common phrases, what Aperions did. She heard little about the individuals. Still, free food (or “free-er food” – the Collective was picking up the tab for all of her expenses) was a hard offer to turn down, and she went with them to a café. Dazzled by the menu, she asked what the server recommended. Then ordered a triple portion.

Yeah, the Aperions definitely knew how to live life.

Not that she was a TOTAL stranger to luxury. Before her ranking was cut –again; it’d taken her half a year to get her title reinstated-, she’d had her share of the finest of what the Dyanmis Collective had to offer. Such was her due as a Wizard. Granted, she still didn’t get the same perks as a Sorcerer would, but she’d had enough scraps from their table to know (and this had done a good deal for her ego) that despite her “lesser” status, she wasn’t slumming by any means. But this? This stuff was luxury on a whole new level. For one, the portions were generous. The flavors were exquisite, full of spices that she’d only read about. The conversation educated – seemed like when everyone was well-off, everyone spent their time pursuing their passions.

One thing majorly pissed her off, though – no one talked about the War.

No one.

Not in a single, bright, open airy café did she hear a single thing about the Dynamis Collective. She heard plenty about art, literature, the newest popular song and the most recent ruling of the Judge’s Council – but nothing about the deprivations of being at war for years on end. Not one place that she wandered did she see a single sign that anyone’s lives were impacted. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; there was a lovely little plaque on the bridge across one of the Sindu’s tributaries.

But that was it.

She gritted her teeth through her meal, forcing herself to focus on the dazzling array of flavors that danced across her palate. She couldn’t blow her cover – she had to appear that she was a tourist, or at least a second generation Dyanmis transplant. She couldn’t say or do anything that would make her stand out as someone who was a high-ranking Dyanmis. Not that contact between the two countries was forbidden; it was still unusual, with the peace being so recent, that one would deliberately spend time in the other place (or, realistically, have the money and means to do so). So the couple thinking of her as a little Aperion worked out. There were worse things to be called – and she tried not to take it as a personal insult, but as a physical compliment. That quick double-think was something she was skilled at. Besides, she wasn’t often praised on her looks –more often than not, she was confused as a teenager.

So she lapped it up when, during the meal, both the man and the woman complimented her several times, the woman going so far as to touch her wild copper hair. “Such a gorgeous color, dear! Is it natural?” In a world filled with multi-colored hair, Maban thought it odd that her own flaming locks would have caught anyone’s attention, but hey, flattery was flattery.

The meal couldn’t pass quickly enough, though. Thanking them profusely for picking up the (deliberately) massive tab, she endured individual hugs and cheek kisses before they parted ways. She hoped that the home that they had her set up with included a plentiful liquor cabinet; all of that physical contact, while she’d read about it, was…something. The only person she’d ever been openly affectionate with was her mother. Well, and as much as she could be with Jack – hugs and kisses were out of the question, though. Only Baseliners did that. And even then it was rare. Too much intimacy lead to a bumper crop of Baseline babies, and that did no one any good.

+++++++++

“Wow.”

The home she was set up in was spacious beyond her wildest dreams – but “intimate”, as the passing by Aperions commented on it. It was a “little” (again, by Aperion standards) town home, complete with a small front yard framed by a white picket fence, meticulously cared for. Rose bushes grew hardily in the corners, in sunbursts of orange, pink, yellow, and blush. From her understanding, the top part of the home was going to be her own, while her Aperion partner was to work “downstairs.” She’d wished she had a place all to her own, but for the Project to work, the handlers had to be nearly as much in sync as the pilots. Or at least able to tolerate each other. Thankfully it wouldn’t be as close quarters as the pilots. She smirked, thinking about how well Jack would be handling that particular little set up. She’d find out soon enough, though. Both her and her Aperion partner were brought in earlier to begin monitoring the moment that the pilots were left alone. Her arrival was timed to be early enough to allow her some exploration of the town.

Trudging up the stairs to her room, she let out a low whistle of amazement. So, that whole concern about not having a place to herself? Instantly dispelled. As she rounded the top of the winding staircase, she was greeted by a massive living room, framed by a series of spacious windows. Plants grew robustly from strategically placed pots and planter boxes, masking the corners of the room and giving it the feel of walking into a hanging garden. The living room gave way to a full kitchen and dining room to her right, a hallway to her left. Following her instincts, she went to the left, passing up the bathroom (which she’d check out later, for sure), and ending into what would be her bedroom. Nearly as large as the living room, the bedroom had been equipped with all of her monitoring materials and a spacious desk, complete with notebook, inkwell, and quill. Apparently her discussions with the Project Members hadn’t gone unheard. Part of the training (on the journey there) was a mind-numbing explanation of how all of the surveillance was set up; she was expected to start right away without the benefit of a learning curve. That had also been a point of pride with her – proof that even though she may not be the most power of wizards (though who outranked her at this point, ha!), she was definitely considered the most intelligent.

Taking a few moments to change out of her grungy, non-descript leggings and tunic, she opened the closet and picked out one of the biggest, fluffiest robes there, wrapped herself in it, and sat down at her desk, pressing a few buttons embedded in the top of the desk to her right. A screen neatly parted the wall in front of her, and the home of Lysander Rus-Inovich of the Lacedae (and she thought HER name was bad!) came into view. Did Aperions know NOTHING of “modesty?” Yeesh! Resting her chin in her palm, she tapped a few more buttons, switching from one room to another. Though she had the option to view multiple rooms at once (which she would later), she was far too interested in seeing Jack’s reaction to his new digs, and his new partner. He was hot-headed, immature – even kinda dumb, if she was being honest. But that didn’t mean she hated him – he was one of the few studs that she actually didn’t mind. Truth be told, if she had to pick favorites, he’d be at the top of his list. Something about how little he actually gave a fuck about anything was endearing.

And she wasn’t disappointed.

Hastily, she pulled the notebook to her, and began jotting down her notes, dividing the page into three neat columns.

Aperion subject: Regulus Deneb of the Al Simak

Physically fit. Looks to be a prime Aperion subject. Attitude and approach indicative of high breeding and polish.


Under the neat scientific note, she wrote in a sloppier, careless freehand:

Thall’s balls! What is it with these Aperions and being the most beautiful things ever? This woman is fantastically flawless. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Magnificent. But you see so much of that here that the words don’t even make sense. Hell, after all I’ve seen today, she’s actually quite plain for an Aperion. Like, really plain. Bread and butter plain. Jack sure seems to like her, though. Her ass, at least.

Onto the next column:

Dynamis Subject : Caelus Vel Baelsar – “Smilin’ Jack”, hereby referred to as “Jack”:

Dyanmis subject is reacting as anticipated. He will need more time to acclimate to his surroundings. I sincerely doubt that he will ever be mistaken for an Aperion, but some smoothing around the edges will be beneficial, potentially make him more malleable for the Project and for the Dyanmis Collective’s needs. Subject seems distinctly out of place and nervous. If this continues, it will affect his Sync. I will continue to monitor – at this time, Ion Heart Stone implantation will be risky. If we decide to go ahead with the implant at the currently scheduled time, I strongly recommend, no, insist on, subject’s need for additional time to be acclimated.


She grinned. It was sort of nice watching him get taken down a few notches by being clearly out of his element.

Again, beneath the neat, formal script, she added her personal note:

Jack’s totally out of his depth – outclassed, out everything. Will be interesting to see where this goes!

Her quill stilled as their voices rose, and she watched, riveted, the fight between the two. She felt her blood boil at Regulus’s denunciation of Jack’s skills, of the War itself. Nearly snapping the quill in her fury, she added more beneath the Aperion entry:

What a bitch! Maybe Jack can help manually remove that tree trunk up her ass! The Aperions are blissfully unaware of what the Wars actually cost! It’s like they don’t give a flying fuck how much damage they did, like, “Oops, I dropped that carton of eggs on the floor; might as well buy some more!” They’ve done such a good job of covering up anything that it looks like they’ve lived in a giant bubble for the past decades. It’s fucked up. Nobody talks about anything of substance out in the real world. Fuckers. Here we are, struggling, still dealing with the effects of the Veneficus bomb, and they’re talking about what sauce goes better on their pasta!

So lost in her furious tirade, she almost missed Jack following Regulus into the bathroom. Almost. “Stunned” didn’t even begin to describe how she felt about what happened next. With wide eyes, she blindly wrote, fumbling for the column for “Dyanmis”, never taking her eyes from the screen.

Jack has reacted most unexpectedly – he has not only pursued physical contact with the Aperion, but in a most curious way – with a kiss! Has he already started to acclimate, or is it the outside help of intoxicants? The Aperion has responded in an uncharacteristic manner as well; she has reciprocated.

She didn’t think her jaw could drop any further without it disconnecting entirely from her head.

They have commenced to breeding, like taken over by some madness! I do not have records of the Aperion breeding cycle or birth restrictions, so I cannot comment on the possibility of offspring.

Fumbling, she reached for her personal notes:

Absolutely fascinating. Jack lasted for all of a minute – but she’s dragged him off. Apparently Aperion women aren’t too happy about just being bred! I’ve read thousands of books about “love” and “lust” and “beauty” coming from Aperion society, and what they believe the breeding cycle to be about. It is absolutely fascinating watching it in action. But it’s not quite right, either – they both seem possessed. I read some stuff from Baseliners saying that this was a possibility in breeding, but Baseline society doesn’t produce the same volume of drivel that the Aperions do. Jack’s the most virile I’ve ever seen him – he’s already seeded her once; can it be possible for him to do it again?

Despite trying to keep her thoughts as scholarly as possible, she couldn’t deny the small flicker of flame in her stomach –and lower- watching the pair roughly copulate. With a deep blush, she wrapped her robe tighter around her, crossed her legs firmly, and began to write again.

+++++++++

With her face “comfortably” smashed against the mattress, Regulus gave a keening whine as he eagerly slapped her right rear cheek, giving it a bit of a wiggle to encourage more such behavior. The sharp sting had proven to be a marvelously…inventive counterpoint to his groping, and one that she had not expected. Aperion Loving, after all, was a slow, time-consuming affair; never rushed, never rough. She’d never been struck in her entire life – at least, not in this setting. And the effect of it was intoxicating. She bumped her rear into his hips, wordlessly asking for another. It was demeaning; that’s what her training was screaming at her. To abase herself like this, to allow herself to be taken and actually lose control – unacceptable. But that was part of the thrill; she’d never been like this before.

And she wanted more of it.

Though she didn’t get her second slap to her rear, she did get the long pleasure of his slow stroke back into her, and she arched her back, as lithe as a cat, as she accepted him, a low, guttural groan leaving her. She shifted her weight, lowering herself further, the side of her face pressed further into the mattress, her eyes tightly shut as she grasped the sheets below her to steel herself against each rough thrust. But as good as he gave, she gave back, two fold. They’d both have bruises and would be sore by the time it was all over, but the primal scream in her body urged her forward. As her mind luxuriated in letting go, in the sensation of being claimed, her arousal spiked to a point she hadn’t known possible. Right before she was going to topple over the edge into oblivion, his hand in her hair, against her neck, pulled her back, and she let out a pathetic whine of loss. She’d been so close…

His tug brought her head up. He hadn’t yanked on her hair; just buried his fingers in it, and she’d merely arched her back further, facing the wall directly in front of her. The elegant lines of her neck, jawline, were now exposed to him, covered in fat droplets of sweat, her brows seemed to be permanently knit in an expression of sheer bliss, her cheeks flushed.

He spoke, and her body responded before she could form the words. She tightened around him, her dampness grew heavier, and a mild shiver ran through her body, an uncontrollable little wave. The same part of her that would have been horrified to have been spoken to in such a base manner in the middle of such sensitive activity was quickly shoved aside by this newer feeling – the same one that let her howl his name and speak such filth before.

“Fuck,” she snarled, borrowing the word she’d so often heard him say, “I love it. I love it! More! Fuck me harder, you stupid fucking Dyanmis trash!”

Okay, so there was still some clear aggression there.

It certainly didn’t stop her from indulging – and clearly, the words, though harsh, lost impact in the completely lustful way they were spoken. If he’d taken pleasure at the idea of knocking her off of her polished pedestal, with those words, he could have considered the transformation complete. The only polish left to her was the beauty of her face, her body, the way her body responded to him, demanding and giving and reciprocating and taking all at once. Her head slumped down as the pummeling of his shaft inside of her rapidly constricting cunt hastily pushed her to that peak once more –

She gave a small start, a soft cry of pleasant surprise, when his lips sought her throat. Labored and as difficult as it was to twist under him and still keep ramming her hips back into his, she eagerly sought his face, the hot exhalation of his whiskey-tinted breath as it sought her own. With one deft twist (how she managed it, she couldn’t figure out), her lips collided against his, clumsy at first, fierce – then mellowed into possibly the gentlest kiss of the night. She kept the kiss tender, as long as she could, even through the tumultuous rockings of their bodies. Even as they broke apart for breath, she struggled to free a hand beneath her, to shift her weight to be held on three limbs instead of four, and she arched her back, her neck, into him, a hand running gently through his hair, down the side of his sweaty face as she kissed him again, holding it, holding it, until one thrust from him turned the world white and she was screaming his name into his mouth, her body tightening on him, a wellspring of honey gushing forth from her.
 
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Quaint was a word Sikke Astrumafa rarely used but if there was one word to sum up Butua that was it. Of course he thought of it in a purely sarcastic sense as the word itself had little to no meaning in Sikke's vocabulary. He did not see the inherent beauty in the lush greenery or the novelty of living a simpler life. It was a waste of time and effort, Aperion Society did not rise to prominence through its genius and technological might just so a few with too much time and money could sit around and drink coffee out of tiny cups served by their lessers, marveling at the scenery and chit-chatting about the weather. It was all so very dull it was all Sikke could do from stabbing himself through the eye with a butter knife. But no one would know that by looking at the brilliant young Aperion.

Sikke was the very model of Aperion beauty and elegance. He was very much a man, but handsome just didn't quiet describe him accurately. He had an androgynous quality that bordered on feminine. High cheek bones, a curving jawline and full, plush lips that easily held an endearing smile (even when he wanted to do someone bodily harm as he did now), along with large, lovely eyes the color of lilacs in bloom. His was long, straight and well-managed, silken to the touch and feather light. The color ranged from an intense violet starting at his brow and slowly faded to a bright indigo at the tips. Presently it was drawn back into a stylish 'man bun', the indigo tips curling out to the right and over the color of his white button down shirt. His body was sleek and impossibly thin, a standard that no unaltered person, Aperion or Dynamis could hope to maintain. All of this was thanks due to the marvelous advances in technology. The Aperion people were allowed to express themselves as no other could, becoming whatever they wanted (within reason of course). His skin was a alabaster hue, as if the sun had never touched it before. It was flawless, the only thing marring it in anyway was the gem embedded high upon his brow. It was partially obscured by his bangs, but the brilliant blue hue standing out against his white skin.

His fashion sense was noticeably lower key than his appearance. He had decided upon business causal for the ride here, a white button down shirt with gray vest and matching two button blazer, finished off with a brown leather belt and black slacks. His polished dress shoes gleamed brightly in the sun light. The only other thing he carried with him was a slender walking cane, the head wrought from silver and perfectly molded to fit his hand and his hand alone. Business causal to Sikke meant no tie.

Though he had arrived early, Sikke had no desire to take in the sights. He was here for one reason and one reason alone: The Project. Namely his task was to monitor the Aperion contribution to the project. He had read the dossier on Regulus Deneb of the Al Simak while on the train ride here and found nothing of particular interest. She was ravishing beautiful, though rather plain by their standards. She was a member of the Teaching Council. Nothing of particular interest there. Sikke had no particular interest in teaching anyone anything, he could only imagine how mind numbingly frustrating it could be having to deal with simpletons. No, that wasn't entirely true, he knew just how it felt. Still, she seemed a fitting candidate if the associated charts had anything to say. But when he ran his fingers through Jack's file, well, he felt his stomach turning more and more after every page. What in the name of his ancestors were those Dynamis pigs thinking? Here the Aperions offered up a promising young woman, superior to even the 'highest' Dynamis and they gave them...this? According to the records he could barely read the standard Dynamis script and had next to no understanding of Aperion at all. If Sikke ever wanted to retch at a situation this was it. Despite what the charts said, he had little hope for the two to find any sort of connection. Sure, on paper they could potential Sync up, but it was like throwing a rabid dog into a cage with a pure bred cat and hoping the result would be a litter of kittens.

This was going to be a horrible mess.


__________________________________



The first thing that Jack did when he heard Regulus snarl and curse was falter. It was still hard to fathom how someone like her could do that. She simply unleashed a feral side he had yet to see in another person, at least in a sexual context. Sure he had seen the worst of both Dynamis and Aperion on the battlefield, but this was different. Mostly, it did certainly feel like a struggle, a fight for dominance against this ravishingly beautiful, yet ultimately infuriating woman. Ultimately though she began to relent in this new position, accepting his forceful thrusts with nothing short of a keening mewl and a thrust of her own hips back against him. He marveled as he watched that backside jostle and jiggle before him, by the Gods, the noise she made when he slapped it! How could he not deliver a few more, just to see if she would react like that again. She did, much to his debased delight, which brought out the most feral of grins to his thin lips. He had never taken any pleasure in being a dominate person, not that he had much opportunity for dominance in his position. Even so, when he had the upper hand on an enemy he never played the sadistic cat and mouse games he had seen soldiers on both sides employ. He delivered swift and merciful death, if only so the Gods might look upon him and favor him with the same thing when his number finally came up.

So when that lovely husky voice snarled the word she had heard him use so many times, Jack visibly flinched. He didn’t have time to register it, even if he did find it so incredibly sexy, since she didn’t give him the time to digest. Instead she answered his question, screaming that she indeed loved every minute of him buried deep inside her. She begged, no, demanded that he take her harder before calling him trash. Jack honestly didn’t know how to react to that outburst. On one hand he felt so turned on he could have just burst right then and there but part of him was deeply offended. That part wanted to grab her by the hair and slam her face first into the mattress and truly show her just how hard he could take her. Neither side won out, not as he had leant in for that kiss he had desperately sought. Of course by the time he got close he was second guessing his decision, the filth that flew past her sweet lips was unsettling. It didn’t register that he had gotten just what he wanted, to see the social grace fall and shatter from this beautiful figure. There were just too many emotions going on for him to fully comprehend, the most primary sensation the absolute pleasure of her constricting vessel squeezing him to the very brink.

Regulus managed to display that surprising agility once more, how she was able to turn in that position and press her lips so fully against his own he couldn’t comprehend. But there they were, once more smashed against his own, her alcohol laced breath tickling at his senses and damp flesh. It was a clumsy attempt at best, though she just as easily corrected herself and did something he never expected.

She kissed him gently.

He had expected a hungry kiss, maybe followed by a ‘fuck’ or two, or at least another sneering insult at his heritage. But no, he felt something in that kiss that made his frame jolt and quiver. It did nothing to quell the pace of their claiming, his hips still hungrily slammed against her backside, fiercely claiming what was rightfully his. Just like many other things this night, this was the first time he had experienced such an intimate kiss. It was different than what they had done before, that was hot, almost violent and hungry. This had an undeniable hunger, but it was different. Whatever it was, he wanted it more desperately than he could fathom. Jack moaned loudly against his lover’s lips, seeking them out even as she drew back to gasp for air. Fuck it, he didn’t need to breathe right now! What he needed were those delicious lips pressed back against his own.

She managed to move, to change the position in a way that she arched back against him. There was a hand on his frame, in his sweat drenched hair, brushing against his face as their lips met again. Jack felt his eyes closing as his inner core tensing as the pleasure tore through ever fiber of his being. He was already losing it by the time he felt his name being screeched against his mouth. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, perhaps it was the way she tensed about him, all but milking him before there was a sudden rush of warmth that coated him. Jack’s arms engulfed her, held her tight, smashed her up against him as he let out one final grunt and bucked his hips forth, pressing them flush against her backside as he released for a second time that night.

As intense as the first had been, this one robbed him of all senses. There was a throb that pulsed up through his loins, burrowing into his brain and took with it sight, sound and especial the sense of his surroundings. All he felt was her, all he tasted was her mouth. His engorged shaft swelled within her constricting depths before giving a single twitch followed by a burst of white hot seed. Another twitch and Jack felt his loins throb again and with it came another volley. The third, less intense leaked from him and sapped what strength that remained. He slumped against Regulus without a care of if she could hold him up. The pleasure was intense, there was no doubt, but the dull ache of his thighs and hips was quickly rendering it moot. He collapsed with a sharp groan, slipping from her depths and smearing their combined passions against them both, along with the sheets before he just collapsed onto his back with a thud. His arms curled above his head, fingers splaying through his soaked hair. His chiseled chest rose and fell swiftly with each breath, which did nothing to satisfy the ache for air.

“Holy. Shit..” Jack panted his voice hoarse and crackling. “I think my brain is splattered all over the wall back there. I came so hard my eyes almost popped out of their sockets…”

He followed that up with a rather teenaged giggle. It was short lived, though the grin that he wore upon his tired, sweat drenched face was undeniable.


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Sikke found the house in Zairb suitable enough. It would serve its purpose even if it did so tastelessly. He found that his equipment had been delivered and installed per his instructions, along with his personal possessions. The bottom floor was his own to do with what he pleased. At least he didn’t have to spend too much time with his Dynamis counterpart. He could only imagine what kind of dirty pig they had sent, if this Jack was any indication they would be a dullard with dirt under their nails and an overbite. Filthy mongrels.

He followed the natural flow of the layout and found the amenities in working order. His study was suitably large enough to hold both the surveillance equipment to observe the subjects and his own personal scientific equipment. Unfortunately he could bring little from his laboratory in Capua, infectious diseases were notoriously difficult to transport. He followed along the shelves and tables against the far wall as he approached a tall rectangular case that sat upon a small table. He ran his hand over its dull black surface before finding the small pad at the top. He brushed the tip of his index finger over it and the screen on the surface flickered to life. He observed the numbers as they flashed by, vital signs stable. That brought out a smile to his lips as he placed his hand lovingly against the surface of the box and turned from it without another thought. Sikke settled down and got comfort, which meant he removed his blazer and neatly hung it up before he sat down before the monitors that had been set up at a large L shaped desk. Resting upon the desks surface was one of his personal laptops that he used in his research and experiments. It was secured with a bio-lock keyed to him and him alone. How he loved technology, it was so very useful for keeping one secrets safely hidden. He brought the monitors to life and settled back to observe the subjects; a small digital record was retrieved from his vest pocket and held idly near his face as he rested his elbow against the armrest of his chair. He pressed the play button and began in a very monotone, yet disturbingly pleasant tone.

“This is Doctor Sikke Astrumafa. It is…” He glanced at the nearby clock and stated the time dryly. “This is my first observation of both subjects for The Project. I want to go on the record right now and state that I have little hope for the proper compatibility we need for a successful Sync.”

He refrained from allowing his emotions to seep into his voice. Sikke was nothing if not terrifyingly polite. His smile was sweet, his graces unmatched, his etiquette proper and his sympathy believable. While Sikke was able to do a great many things feeling true sympathy was not one of them. He could gracefully pantomime any emotion that he needed at the time, though he could not actually feel them. He could experience joy and anger easily enough, but the more subtle emotions were all but foreign to him. He had little emotional connections with any living person, the only one that he had held dear in his life was his young sweet sister. But her life had been brutally snuffed out in the war. She was a Soldier, they said that were her duty, she served the people as her role intended. With her death though something had died in Sikke as well, though it had taken him many years to finally realize it and even longer to come to terms with it. Many might find that behavior befitting a serial killer or some other kind of manic. But it served Sikke well in his chosen profession, just another tool in his arsenal.

“The Dynamis Subject. “Smilin Jack”, or Caelus Vel Baelsar.” Sikke regurgitated the name without even sneering, though it tasted like ashes on his tongue as he spoke it. “A typical Dynamis soldier. Born of base stock, molded into a trained killer from a young age. He lacks the mental facilities to comprehend more than his intended role as a killer. He does have an impressive endurance though, which could prove very useful if we decide to proceed. Hopefully his pain tolerance is equally impressive…”

He idly switched through the monitors, following the initial reaction between the two once everyone had left them alone.

“A typical reaction upon the Dynamis Subject’s part. He has met grace with hostility. Our Aperion subject appears to be made of sterner stuff.”

His lilac gaze focused upon Regulus then, going so far as to zoom in on her as she moved about in her dress. She was lovely, a beautiful if not plain specimen. Yes he had studied her from the files, but seeing her in motion was something entirely different. While he could not truly comprehend the emotion he did feel some pity towards the girl for having to endure such a boor.

“Onto the Aperion subject. Regulus Deneb of the Al Simak. An impressive background, she comes from great stock. If she’s anything like her parents she will do what is necessary to see The Project through. I’m not entirely convinced that she is going to be able to endure the trials ahead. I hope that she has the mental fortitude.”

Sikke turned off the recorder as he allowed his chin to rest against the palm of his hand. Silently he observed the unfolding events. The outbursts were to be expected, he did not fault Regulus for it. If anything she had been too graceful in her approach; a dog needed to be reminded of who was in charge firmly after all. He did not anticipate what came next, to say he was stunned did not suffice. He nearly dropped his recorder in his attempt to turn it back on.

“I cannot believe what I am seeing. The two have engaged in physical contact. Is that…yes…a kiss? It seemed more of a dominating gesture. But…fascinating…” Sikke leaned up in his chair, his stomach lurching as he felt the typical disgust at the sight of this mongrel disrobing. But his scientific mind was quickly overwhelming all his other senses and reactions.

“I did not think that they would copulate so quickly. The Dynamis Subject was woefully inadequate by Aperion standards. No doubt their breeding habits…” Sikke trailed off as he watcher Regulus explode from the tub and carry the male bodily onto the bed.

“Goodness. At first I thought she might do him bodily harm for the insult. But no…she…she took him to bed. No…she wouldn’t. She did!” Sikke was in awe by the sight, he sat upon the edge of his seat as he watched the scene unfold. He documented every moment, adding his own opinions as he saw fit.

“So quickly she has devolved before my eyes. Is it pure physical lust that drives her? Never before have I seen an Aperion female so…lustful…Perhaps-“ Sikke started and immediately stopped, his lilac eyes widening as the realization hit home. It was like a punch to the brain, he flinched as the idea forced its way and left no room for anything else.

“No. It can’t be…could she? Is she…with…him? A dynamis? Impossible. Absolutely impossible!” His voice crackled, an undeniable anger sending it trembling. He didn’t want to believe it, not even as his logical mind told him exactly what it was.

“No. We need more experimentation before I can come to a true conclusion…” He muttered lowly, more to himself than to his recordings.
 
Her arms quaking from the effort to hold her up through her own intense orgasm, they gave one last, meager tremble, and she was down, Jack collapsing unceremoniously on top of her. With a huff of expelled air, she lay under him, rapidly blinking in a meager attempt to clear her blurred vision. The world around her was a spacious fuzz of white. Her sense of touch felt supernaturally heightened; the whisper of sheets as she pushed through them, the loud rasp of Jack’s breath as he struggled to regulate, the heat spilling lazily from between her legs. Covered in their* mingled sweat, she lay, gasping, beneath him before he rolled off of her, and she gave a soft whine of displeasure. Though he had been heavier than she anticipated, his warmth was welcomed.

As he lay beside her, panting, she ignored what he said. Partially because it didn’t matter, and partially because of the post orgasm ringing in her ears. If someone had wanted to attack them, well, now would be the best time. Her strength sapped, vision lazily returning, her hearing absolutely shot, and her head swimming, she struggled to pull herself upright. Finally getting herself in a sitting position, she looked over at Jack blearily, her neck seeming as weak as a newborn kitten’s. With an uncharacteristically clumsy gesture, she lifted her hand as if it weighed hundreds of pounds, and let it drop on his chest in a movement that was more caressing than brutal.

Without a word, she slumped back down into the nest of pillows, and turned onto her side, facing him. The sheets beneath them were damp, in some spots flat out soaked, and hardly all that comfortable. She ignored that, and scooted closer to him, before laying her head on his chest, her arms moving to encircle his neck, pulling him closer to her. Indolently, she slung a leg across his waist, effectively wrapping herself around him, a creeper vine twining about a trellis. Burying her face against the side of his neck, her breath pillowed against him, before the hot touch of her mouth pressed against his throat. Her fingers inched up to run through his wet hair, and she let out a long sigh of complete and utter contentment.

In no time at all, cuddling still closer, she was sound asleep, her chest slowly rising and falling.

++++++++

Maban was slackjawed.

Her mind buzzed a thousand miles a minute - Jack had clearly seeded her a second time, that was unheard of, even for the best studs, they at least needed a recovery time, or a some sort of spell, but being an Aperion, that Regulus clearly had no magic at her disposal, but there it was. Had she drugged him? When could there have been time for that? Was there something inherently different in her genetic structure that allowed Aperions to command the carnal arts like that? Was he already connected to her - had that been part of the testing process that, for some unexplainable reason, she hadn't been informed of?

She quickly tossed that last thought out - of course she would have known. They used some of her own spells; one of which had taken her the better part of a year. It assumed, and this was of original theory (because she was brilliant, of course!) that because of the physical similarities, the only way that a true Sync could have been possible was to find the most un-enhanced Aperion to be used as a Baseliner - the idea was, in her head, that both Aperion and Dynamis came from some basic ancestor - and her Configuration spell had been based around that concept. She hadn't had the time to actually TEST the spell before it was cast on Jack, so all she could do was roll up her sleeves and hope that her luck held.

Or that her opinion was taken into consideration by the Aperion Council when they were picking out their own subject. Just by looking at Regulus, the Aperion woman had seemed plain enough, but there was no telling with these people. And because she was new to this half of the project, she hadn't had the chance to get her hands on the Aperion research. That, she cursed a bit, but in time, and if she was patient, she'd see it soon enough. Maybe she could sweet-talk her Aperion counterpart into being a bit more transparent? After all, in a twisted way, if it wasn't for the ongoing wars, she wouldn't have any power in her life, or any possibility of gaining more and learning more - so she was, deep down, the slightest bit thankful for what the wars provided.

Though it didn't make dealing with the stuffed shirt Aperion society any easier.

Maban wrote so hard, so fast, and so furious it was only when her hand cramped so bad that she couldn't unlock her fingers from her quill that she had to give herself time to stop. Slowly clenching and unclenching her fingers, her free hand rubbed her chin as she continued to let her thoughts bounce off of one another.

It wasn't what she had expected, in any way, shape or form. And, fighting back a nervous giggle, she realized that it was probably the best news she was going to get that day. And it would make her job easier - clearly there was some sort of pull between the two of them; that would lend itself to the idea that they'd be able to share a Sync, once all of the personality stuff was stripped away. So, overall, that meant that her homeland could be saved. Win-win.

And talk about Dyanmis pride! He completely and utterly subdued that arrogant bitch - fucked her right into silence. That alone was worth having a drink over.

As awkward as it'd been watching (she had to wonder; did she look like that when she was being taken? Yikes. But, come to think about it, had she ever been bred like that? Nope. Wonder if there was actually a difference...), all it had done was bolster her hopes. Well, maybe "hope" wasn't the right word. "Confidence" - confidence in her ability, and confidence that her next proposal would go over just as well.

Idling wiggling the fingers of her left hand, she stood up, crossed the room, and threw open the closet door. Tucked away within an internal pocket of one of her finest mantles (because styles of clothing be damned; nothing said "Wizard" like a nice mantle.), she gently removed a deep violet crushed velvet bag. Tugging the draw string open, the contents of the bag sparkled a deep, pulsing red, and with a long, romantic sigh, Maban clutched the gems close to her heart. These were her babies - a product of her brilliance, and two of a kind. There would never be a more perfect set of Ioun stones - not now, not before, not ever. She'd made them with her own hands, testing the limits of her boundless information to ensure that they met every precise specification that she wanted them to have.

Sliding them out of the bag and into her palms, she cradled them, warming them with the heat of her body, with her breath as she softly blew on them. As if responding to her, the gems pulsed a deep reddish orange, flames trapped within red glass. Squeezing them lightly into a closed fist, she pressed them close to her chest, held them, and then slid them back into the bag. Pulling the drawstring taunt, she gave a small chuckle.

"All right, my babies - you guys are going to the dandy stuffed shirt Aperion here in a bit. Whoever he is, he's going to make sure that you're the perfect combination of magic and technology...but remember, above all, you're my babies. And you're going to do Momma proud!" She kissed the bag with a large grin, before hugging it close to her again.

Well, no time like the present. The subjects were "indisposed", and she'd have to meet her Aperion counterpart at some point. Setting the stones down lovingly on the bed, she banged open the bathroom door and squealed with glee at what she saw.

++++

Emerging from the bathroom nearly an hour later, Maban was at her best; her second best black mantle with the golden dragon's whisker pattern, her matching gold leggings, and black tunic with a golden eagle embroidered on it. A black headband set with golden gems set at her forehead and brought her wealth of shimmering orange hair away from her face, and black gloves and boots, both trimmed with gold, completed the look. Slipping the velvet pouch into another hidden pocket, she slipped out of her room, and made sure she made noise as she came down the stairs.

Which ultimately meant that she stomped down them, as gleeful as a 5 year old.
"Hello...?" she called out when she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Is anyone here?" She swallowed, letting out the breath she hadn't been aware that she'd been holding. It caught her by surprise - this acknowledgement that she was...actually nervous at who this Aperion might be. The ones she'd met earlier were nice enough, but this person was going to be way more high ranking, and probably all the more arrogant. And she doubted that a screaming match between the two of them would have equaled in furious copulating...

A deep blush blossomed on her cheeks, and she squawkingly laughed. "That's just swell, Maban! They're gonna think we're all sex-deprived losers," she grumbled to herself, embarrassed that for longer than she should have, she'd humored the idea. Besides, Aperion breeding standards were...unusual. A lot of formalities - and offspring wasn't usually the result. She'd have no reason to want to be bred by an Aperion. Nope. None at all. Not in the slightest.

Anyway! There was business to be discussed. She'd noted in her dossier that the rest of the night, for them, at least, between observation was going to be put to use combining their two skillsets. Even though the schedule had been mapped out far ahead of time, Maban found herself slightly worried, concerned, even, that her counterpart wouldn't know what he or she was doing, having never dealt with magic before. Or even having the desire to.

With a smug grin, she tossed her hair away from her shoulder in a magnificent flip. Only the glamorous, and incredible genius Maban could mold the two worlds together!
 
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He wasn't truly expecting a response to his statement, it was more for posterity than anything. Who would have thought, of all the things he could do after being assigned to this special project, was to fuck his sworn enemy. Sure, the woman was no soldier, nothing about her spoke of a hard life, not that beautiful face and warm eyes or lush, soft curves. Still, she was an Aperion, one of the Commonwealth, the enemy. It was easier to see things from a purely black and white perspective. That way of thinking made life easier, offered some respite in the chaos and violence of war. While tonight was far from a bloody conflict, it was as close to an inter-species war as he had ever seen. Both vied for dominance throughout the entire encounter, at least until the end. That kiss still tingled at his lips. Neither truly had won out over the other, but it was still a victory all the same. Both lay bruised, battered and beaten. Beyond the point of exhaustion, never before had Jack thought that such a thing could occur in a place like this...a bed! The only thing he had ever used one for was sleeping, breeding, and maybe building a little fort (just one time – he was really smashed). Of course, what he considered a bed was nothing like the thing he was currently resting upon. He'd never felt something so cushy, somehow holding and supporting his body. Parts of it were thoroughly drenched, but honestly Jack and slept in worse places covered in things not as pleasant as spent passions.

Jack barely registered the movement, even as Regulus slowly leaned up and sat there with her head cocked, drenched in sweat and other sticky fluids. It was only when her hand unceremoniously flopped onto his chest that he snapped back to reality. He hadn't even realized his eyes had closed, though as his eyelids twitched and open he felt them readily wanting to close again. The touch still made him shiver, as much as he thought she had pushed him past the point of exhaustion, that touch caused him to stir ever so lightly. There was a low rumble of a murmur coming past his lips as she moved, drawing down beside him in his direction. All Jack could do was tilt his head in her direction and regard her through half-closed eyes. His brain didn't fully register that she was moving, not until she had pressed her head against his chest, slung her arms around his neck and tugged him into her. Jack rolled, finding himself easily slipping up and onto his side before her. His arms engulfed her as they had before, though now he curled them protectively about her frame. He reached up, brushing away wavy strands of her hair from her face and tucking them behind her ear before he just let his hand settle onto her shoulder. That dark frame had managed to snake about him quiet deftly. It was a sensation he wasn't use to, the warmth of her breath made him tingle but with each passing one he felt a sense of...well...he honestly didn't know what it was? He mind searched out the possibility of just what it was? He felt relaxed, calm, like he had just finished a perfect workout session or had a big meal of his favorite food (hint – MEAT).

Before he could focus the search Jack felt the pull of sleep, stealing his senses soundly. He fell asleep for the first time in the arms of another, a sense of peace offering unexpected comfort.

_______________


The outcome was unexpected. Sikke watched mutely as the two collapsed into a heap of sweaty flesh. The act had been bestial, they were more like animals fornicating in the wild than lovers. He detested it only slightly, more often than not the act should be described as love making and not rutting. Still, fascinating in a detached kind of way. He silently wondered if anything would come of the union, not that he had any delusions of grandeur about it. Even if something came of it surely it would be a genetic reject unable to survive outside the womb. He wasn't even taken into account the mental and physical trauma the poor girl would experience as a result of the Consolido Project. He wondered if perhaps Saiph had placed too much upon her daughter's shoulders. The Dynamis mutt was suitable enough a subject, though as to his genetic superiority...well...that was debatable. In the end though his musings were just that. He knew that sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. Subconsciously his gaze drifted towards the large black box in the distance. Yes, he knew it all too well.


With the conclusion of their coupling both were sound asleep within minutes. It seemed a good enough time as any to finally introduce himself to his Dynamis counterpart. They had much to discuss and even more to work through. While the two resting comfortably in each others arms were the key to the entire project, they were far from the only integral part of it.

Sikke arose from his chair and set about to seeing that everything was in its place. His first stop was to the kitchen, where with a press of a few buttons he had begun the process of making tea. He selected a type known to be a favorite of the Dynamis people, a potent blend with an interesting kick to it. Sikke had sampled it before hand, just to make sure he could react to the taste politely. He found it palatable in a way, enough that he could keep his composure over a cup of it.

With another wave of his hand he called out the household domestic robots, whom he set about the task of preparing the table. It simply wouldn't do without a table cloth and some decent china. Of course they had some snacks as well, Sikke saw to it dutifully without a moment's pause. There was little he had to prepare for himself, his clothing was immaculate and after a quick brushing of his hair he settled upon letting it down, if only to see the intense wave of color better. He slid his blazer back on just about the time he heard the thunderous stomping of feet. It gave him pause, thinking perhaps that his counterpart had brought with them children. He had heard about their breeding techniques, so the idea that the women were constantly spewing forth babies did come to mind. It was an amusing thought, one that made him smile brightly. Sikke made his way to the door wearing that enchanting smile, his posture perfect and his hands resting comfortably before himself.

“Ah, Good day. You must be Maban Grian Cloch,” Sikke retained that smile as he spoke, his pronunciation rather spot on. It should be, he had attempted it before hand to make sure he could say it correctly. Not for one moment did he allow the shock of what he was seeing show upon his beautiful face. At first, he had thought briefly this was indeed his counterparts child, she could be no older than in her late teens. But no, he deducted all too quickly that wasn't the case, she clearly matched the description in her own dossier. Her attire was nothing if not fabulous though, the black and gold certainly did much to make her natural coloration stand out. He was quietly impressed, at least she had a certain flair and style he did not know existed within the Dynamis culture.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sikke Astrumafa. The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. Will you come in? I've prepared some tea and finger foods for our discussion.” His words were soft and melodious, a certain lilt that made them almost musical. He had a rather calm and placid aura about him, the reassuring smile and graceful nature of his movements unforgettable. He moved to the side, sweeping his arm out as he bowed slightly at the waist, allowing her entrance to the lower floor and his current abode.

By the time they emerged together the robots were done setting the table, leaving with a soft whirl of rollers and the crackling beep of their communication. He followed after the short, fiery haired girl, silently taking her in as they walked.

“I would be right to assume that you have brought them?” Sikke asked, perhaps a bit more eagerly than he anticipated. His hands were already sweeping out to draw back her chair, offering her a seat at the right side of the table. He held it in place, awaiting her to sit, or so he thought. Manners were everything.
 
Well, he seemed to come out of nowhere. Maban gave a small start (skillfully disguised by her flipping her hair over her shoulders), and whirled to face him. She was tempted to put her hands on her hips, but decided against the movement as she figured it wouldn’t look “professional” as so much as “confrontational”, and she did have to make a good first impression. With a small (and not at all haughty, she felt, smile), her eyes drifted over him from head to toe.

Another beautiful person. Oi.

His hair held her attention the longest - it was such a lovely and vivid color that for long moments, she had a hard time pulling her gaze away. With a light chuckle, she clasped her hands together. “Pardon me for staring; I’ve never seen such a hair color. It’s absolutely gorgeous!” Despite her somewhat (okay, very) immature frame, her voice was that of an adult; not too high pitched, not too low - although it was more mature than what one may have expected. Her Dyanmis accent did wrap itself around each word - an accent, that, on a bad day, could be described as a “twang.” It was clear that she’d done much to scrub her daily speech of the accent, but it still weighed heavy on certain words. If it embarrassed her for her own accent to sound so uncouth, she didn’t let it show.

Though her fingers itched to touch that silken spill, she paced closer, her own hair trailing behind her in deep flashes of copper. Her motto right now? Kill ‘em with kindness. Clearly this guy was not going to be as nice as those folks in the cafe; he knew who and what she was. And as much as he totally matched every single silver spoon in mouth, swaggering stuffed shirt peacock description of Aperion men, his research was too…refreshingly bold and new for her to let her disgust show. Besides, what she’d just said about his hair wasn’t a lie; it WAS gorgeous. From the looks of him, he probably already knew that.

She extended a gloved hand. They shook hands here, right? “Thanks; pleasure to meet you too…” She paused, her lips pursed, before she added, “Astrumafa.” She wasn’t sure of the Aperion honorifics; Regulus hadn’t seemed to use any, with the exception of that mouthful of a name, and she hadn’t heard anything in particular while she was out and about. Maybe the stone in his forehead was enough honorific?

Yeesh, what is it about tea and dainty finger foods with these guys?

She gave him a sweet smile; inclined her head. “That sounds good.” Her smile twitched on the corner, just ever so slightly.

Following him into the room, she watched him pull out her chair with no small amount of surprise. It wasn’t that she was unfamiliar with the gesture; she just figured that he wouldn’t have done it. In the Collective, inferiors announced her before she arrived; prepared her spot at the table. To have someone who was presumably her equal do it for her left her momentarily stunned. She recovered quickly enough, and took her seat with a inclination of her head and a low, somewhat surprised, “Thank you.” Could that have been one of those Aperion courtly love gestures she’d heard about? Did he…think she was beautiful? Beautiful enough to even consider? Her cheeks flushed a peony pink, and she resisted the urge to slap her hands against them and squeal. Already, twice in one day, she was being treated like an actual woman instead of a headstrong teenager! So maybe there totally were some more perks than she’d originally thought about Aperion society.

Okay. Time to remain focused.

“If you’re referring to the Ioun stones, I did,” and she reached within the voluminous folds to produce the velvet bag. As if waiting for the moment (and the lighting) to be absolute perfect, she held the bag for a few beats, before tugging it open. Under the muted lighting of the dining area, the gems flickered with an internal firelight, mesmerizing and soothing.

“It took me the better part of a year to create them,” and she couldn’t stop the pride (or her accent) from slipping into her voice. “They’re works of art.” The last was said with such confidence that it was clear any opinion that differed would immediately be thrown out. And, because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “I don’t know what technology that you think you could add to them to improve them, because, frankly, they’re perfect. They’re already attuned to your vital signs just by your being close to them,” and she gestured to the stone closest to him. If he looked closely, he could see that the flame within was pulsing in time with his heartbeat - the one closest to her doing, presumably, the same, just at a much more frenetic pace. She picked it up, held it out to him. “There’s going to be variations on the monitoring because this one is reacting to my magical capabilities. Smilin’ Jack is a Revenant - that means his magical ability is innate. Born with it,” she added, with a careless wave of her hand. “So it’s going to be stronger with him than it is with me or with you. It won’t overload the stone though, or even overpower him, and that’s the beauty of it!” Those green eyes fairly danced with excitement as she leaned closer to him, the freckles across her caramel skin scrunching across her nose.

“See, the way it works - at least in theory-,” she said the latter quickly and under her breath, “Is that whatever extra energy that’s generated due to his Revenant status will be put in storage within that giant Golem. So you’ve got, potentially, two energies combining to form a battery.” She clasped the stone in her hand as she drew the outline of a box, emphasizing the shape of a battery. “It’s sheer brilliance. But I am curious,” and she finally reached forward, taking a tea cup and sipping from it, “to see what you’ve come up with.”

The next hours would pass in a blur - and during the course of the night, Maban had the distinct, but foreign sensation of…enjoyment. This Astrumafa was a cunning one. She’d have to keep an eye on him.

++++++++

Sunlight cheerily beating through the wide open window woke her first. Her brows knit, and her eyelids slowly lifted.

Her head was pounding, and her mouth tasted like it was packed with old, smoky cotton. With a low, hissing groan, she tried to move…only to realize that she wasn’t alone. Turning to face the heat source, her eyes drifted half-shut again as her head swum with the motion of trying to right herself. Everything hurt from her throat to her joints to random spots of tenderness on her body. Her nipples stung from rawness, and her hips popped painfully as she shifted. And her womanhood? The less said, the better.

Willing her eyes to focus, she took in lean lines, scores of body art…

And instantly flopped back down with a dismayed groan. She couldn’t have.

But apparently she had, for the long limbs of Smilin’ Jack were slung across her body, holding her as close to him as she had been entangled with him a few moments ago. Her gold eyes were wide with terror and uncertainty - how could she have done this? Surely she had done it - he wasn’t the type to do that sort of thing. Blue blazes; why couldn’t she remember anything besides the…Oh.

Ooooohhhh.

There had been some very angry and hostile words. And then the bath. And then….

Her face flushed dark crimson. How could she have? She completely took advantage of a confused Dyanmis male, wrapped up in her own ego and anger. Absolutely inexcusable. How was she going to explain herself? What could she even begin to say? Laying under the press of his arm, she took a deep breath, and looked at him.

And paused.

Despite the…rough night before, he looked…peaceful. His hair had dried into intricate whorls and peaks, and his eyelashes cast long shadows across his cheeks. His mouth didn’t hold a hint of his sour humor, and, for long moments, she allowed herself the mere pleasure of observing a handsome man as he slept. Resisted the urge to run her fingers through his hair, to wake him up with tender administrations. She didn’t deserve that; there was no way she could be kind to him and act as if last night hadn’t happened. And if she was presumptuous enough to kiss him, how would he react? Surely with scorn and derision. He was abrasive enough without reason; she hardly needed to give him another one.

Slowly, wincing, she untangled herself from him, careful not to wake him. As she turned on her side, back to him, the urge to curl up in a ball and hide from the world was overwhelming. The fact that she’d been so wanton, so foul…not that she’d slept with a Dyanmis…Blue Blazes. He was a Dyanmis. What would the Council think? What would public opinion be? She knew her family couldn’t, in theory, care. Not with the whole “Dyanmis are people, too” approach that they’d publicly taken. No, the shame would be solely in her “knowing better”, in overwhelming the Dyanmis’s senses that he had to fall into bed with her. But the rest of the Council…they’d thin that she was so depraved that she had to sleep with a Dyanmis. Because that wasn’t any sort of lovemaking. It had been raw, primal, brutal, and…absolute intoxicating. Something that the snatches of memory that she could recall that stirred her body. Blast. Double blast. How could she?

And then she looked at the floor. Broken glass was everywhere, including the shards of the lamp. The bedside table was on its side, one of its legs sadly cracked. A quick glance upwards at the bed showed angry dark marks from the bed slamming against the wall. She paled. Bad enough that she’d acted so; they’d destroyed the room in the process.

Borrowing one of the new words last night, she said in a low moan: “Fuck.”

She had to get out of the bed. Had to do something. Had to start to make this right. Or at least excuse herself. Slipping stiffly out of the bed with a grace she didn’t know she had, she tiptoed her way to the bathroom - back to the original scene of the crime, as it were. The first thing that greeted her was the feeble beep of the waterlogged cleaning droid, which had, dutifully, during the night, done its best to clean the bathroom. With a small, sad smile towards the robot, she knelt, groaning from the stiffness in her joints, and began to help clean.

++++++

It was a long time afterwards that she emerged, as nude as she’d been when she first entered, but cleaner and smelling sweetly of her favorite perfume. The bathroom had been cleaned up, and was ready for its next body. While in the waters, she’d been reminded of their schedule; she was up earlier than she’d originally anticipated (or really, needed to be), and the meeting with their “Handlers”, as the memo put it, was still a few hours off. Lucky for her - it meant that they would have time to bathe properly, eat, dress, and talk. The latter, she needed to happen more than anything else. It couldn’t get out that she’d manipulated him their first night together; that she’d been so hateful. Or, if it did (as such things always tended to), that she’d done her absolute best as an Aperion to make things better. To soothe and smooth over.

Watching his dozing face, she sighed, and sat down on the foot of the bed. The mattress creaked as she sat on it. Leaning over, she gently placed her hand on his bare hip, and softly shook him.

“Jack…Hey, Jack, wake up…We need to talk.”
 
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