Sentimental Thrill | By : Sealink Category: M through R > Predator Views: 5764 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a birthday fic for
Solain Rhyo, one of my dearest friends. It is a “sequel” to the first ending of
her fabulous Sacrifice Theory over on Fanfiction.net; if you have not finished that work, I
highly advise that you do not read this, as some of the plot will be ruined for
you.
Please be advised: this is smut, better known as
“Plot? What Plot?” It contains sexual acts and you should not read them if you
do not meet the requirements of your state/country/province to view adult
material.
If you like this, check out my other AVP fiction, also hosted at fanfiction.net, under the same penname.
/shameless plug
xXx
He was here.
The air was slightly
chill, crisp with the promise of a Minnesota spring morning, and unseasonably
warm. April still bore some of the signs of frost, but the grass was the
new-leaf green of spring and buds were beginning to show themselves.
The color itself tore me in twain, for only recently had I come to recognize it
as something else: blood.
The Piper Maru and her
crew, haunted by the devastating loss of her purpose, had drifted silently back
into port a few weeks later. The remaining executives on Weyland Industries'
board were already having to defend against hostile
takeover threats from other military manufacturers. I was told that I was free
to go, but that I might be expected to be summoned to speak about the incident.
That was 6 months ago and I haven't heard a word from them since. I had heard
the takeover didn't go through, but I didn't really care.
In the months after my
time with Scar, Tank and Scale, I had undergone something of a transformation.
Much of the meaning in my life had vanished with them; for what seemed like an
eternity I had walked with them and together we had hunted the things that
caused us so much grief. Scar had hunted his chimaera, the dragon born from his
gut. I had hunted Reed, that man who I despised above all else. And without the
Hunt, without Scar, my life had lost a lot of its sheen.
I had done some foolish
things in the time since then, in an effort to get my life back on track. I had
shorn my hair close to my chin, unable to bear the way the wind plucked at it
the way Scar did. I tried free soloing, climbing high-altitude rock faces
without safety harnesses, and nearly killed myself in the process. But it
didn't make me whole. I always felt my thin cotton shirt rubbing against the
bubbled flesh on my arm, as if my skin there had grown more, instead of less,
sensitive. The matching mass of scars on my back was equally unsightly. My
brief attempt to take things up with my boyfriend upon my return had resulted
in a meltdown of our relationship. We'd stopped speaking weeks ago.
So here I was, on a
scenic, secluded ranch. The payment from Weyland had afforded me the small
luxury of taking a few months off, and I was taking full advantage of that. The
isolation out here soothed me, as isolation always did, but what I wanted more
than anything right now was company. That's how I knew he was here; sometimes
you hope that longing for something will bring it back, and sometimes you're
not surprised when it does.
I was sitting on a
hillside, watching the clouds trail their fingertips over the mountains in the
distance. A step behind me brought me to my feet; I still was not able to
tolerate surprises after the weeks of nervous tension in Antarctica. When I turned,
I saw that telltale glimmer in the air, and I knew that one of them was here.
The sudden appearance of the company I'd been hoping for had sent my heart into
my throat; suddenly, I was cursing my 'good fortune' and wondering why I'd
bothered thinking about him in the first place.
The invisibility melted
off like quicksilver, and indeed, it was him. He looked much the same, although
I was pleased to see that he had fewer bulletholes than before. He bore few
reminders of our sojourn, though they were there; I could see the places I'd
packed gel into him in that cold cavern all those weeks ago, where I'd first
allowed myself to admit what I felt for him; a kind of grudging affection that
the months had only turned into a dull ache in my chest.
"Did you forget
something?" He stepped forward and my heart thundered in my ears at his
nearness. For so long, I'd hoped to have him close to me again, although now
that I had him, I wasn't entirely sure what to do with him. He reached up and
curled his fingers through my short hair, and I could sense he was disappointed
at not having any more hair to tug. He managed to wind a lock of it around one
digit and pull gently, and I smiled at the familiarity of the gesture.
"I'll see you
later." It was Ana's voice, from all those months ago, played out into the
Minnesota wilderness. He had known I would be expecting him. And although I
hadn't quite trusted him to come back, I had always expected him to.
"You're late, tiger." He cocked his head to the side and I was inwardly
thrilled to see that familiar pose again. He watched me for a moment, and I
found myself wishing I could see those familiar eyes behind that cold and
impersonal metal mask. I moved so I was next to him, and then sat down, feeling
the warming sun on my face.
He rapped me on my head
with his knuckles and I looked up at him, squinting against the pale sun. He
eased down next to me, leaning back on his elbows. His armor was light; he wore
little in the way of acid protection. What, did you think he was going to find
some of those things here? I could see the paleness of his scars where I'd
packed gel into him in those cold caverns. How long ago that seemed, how far
away from these hills and trees. The sunlight lit his body strangely, and I
realized I had never seen him in such direct light before. His muscles stood
out in even higher definition in the almost garish light. I gained a new
appreciation for his strength when I saw it on display like this.
A soft rumble brought
my attention away from his body. That mask, so severe and unforgiving, seemed
out of place in the softness of the surrounding wilderness. I half-reached for
him, to unfasten his air hoses and remove his mask, but he had already
anticipated my motion. He sat up on his knees and unfastened the tubes which
kept his mask free of condensation, and removed it. His face was still ugly,
but I had long ago lost any of my reservations about Scar. The moments we stole
in the ice caves were real to me, and I didn't regret them. Even looking at his
face now, I didn't regret them. I had to accept him whole, as both someone
different and someone the same. I couldn't just cut out what I didn't like;
regardless of his origin, he had always given me deference and been forgiving
in the face of my flaws. If he, who one could successfully argue was a monster,
could hand out forgiveness, how could I condemn any part of him?
I reached toward him
and gently traced the mark on his forehead where the alien's acid blood had
made him a Warrior. His eyes closed and he stilled. I traced the mark over and
over, smoothing it with the broad part of my thumb, and then letting my hand
drift down the side of his face. It rested on his cheek; I could feel the
muscles under his mandibles tensing, nearly shaking. I touched the flap of skin
that mirrored my cheek and made the same motions, the same marks, the same ancient symbol. His eyes opened and again I was
captured by his amber gaze. His massive hand crept up and he held it over mine,
my warm smooth skin encased in his rough touch. We exchanged more than words in
that glance, and I again realized that always, he let me make the decisions, he let me show where he might go. I had never
appreciated his respect more than now, when I was alone with him, and I could
let my thoughts wander uninterrupted by gunfire or combat.
My Hunter basked in the
sun; he was not wearing the mesh of heating wires he had required in
Antarctica, and his flesh looked more plain for it; I half-missed the impromptu
fishnets, as I thought they gave him a bit of a kinky side. As if he wasn't
kinky enough. "You came back," I said suddenly, before I could stop
myself. He grunted, sitting up and pushing himself to a standing position. I
hurriedly got up after him. Was he leaving again?
He cocked his head sideways
at me again and his low rumble of amusement told me that I was silly to expect
anything else of him. And I was. Since I had met this remarkable ... dare I
call him a man?...he had never betrayed my trust. I
reached for his hand and took it in my own, marveling at how it dwarfed mine. I
held it up, palm to palm with mine, my slender fingers overshadowed by his
massive paw. His clawed fingers closed over mine, and held me fast. I looked at
him, to find that steady gaze watching me again, and I saw that even now, he
was letting me choose.
I stepped forward then,
closing the distance between our bodies and slid my arm around his torso. My
forehead came to rest on his chest and without even putting my ear against it,
I could hear his that satisfied rumble in his chest. Slowly, I bent my
enclasped arm around my back and placed his hand at the small of my spine. His
fingers pressed against me, and then fell away. He took my shoulders and turned
me around, his gaze on the small of my back. His hands slid up my sides,
rolling my shirt up, exposing my dusky skin to the spring wind. I shivered and
tried to turn around, but he growled softly and slid his hands around to the
front of my body, lifting my arms high. My heart was already racing and it felt
like it was nearly going to burst. His fingertips traced sizzling lines up the
front of my stomach, and when they curled around the sides of my breasts, I
closed my eyes. Back went his hands, under my arms and across my shoulder
blades, his thumbs tucking underneath the shirt and lifting it up over my head.
He knelt behind me, and I felt him touch the scars from the alien's blood. I
looked over my shoulder at him, suddenly self-conscious. Not at being
half-naked in his presence, but just the old familiar fear that damaged goods
were ones not worth keeping. His soft clicking caught my attention and I
wondered what he was thinking- were scars good on women? Were they signs of respect or beauty? He
leaned forward, and I felt two small points against my skin, and his hot breath
between them. They moved up, twin spots of heat, and as they reached my neck, a
small moan wheezed from my throat without my bidding. He stilled in my hair for
a moment and his soft purr rose again. Finally, he stood fully upright behind
me, moving close, and his skin was fevered, so much so that I did not mind the
early spring breeze.
I let my arms fall and
my shirt landed in a soft heap in the grasses. I turned slowly and looked at
him, my eyes searching his alien face for clues toward his feelings, but he
remained inscrutable. After long moments, he reached up and stroked the mark on
my cheek with the back of his finger, his head tilting as he did so. I leaned
into his touch, reaching up to hold his hand against my skin. He regarded me
silently, and didn't move those stoic eyes from me. "Scar," I began,
"I don't usually do this on the third date." My voice was shaky; what
I was admitting to was something I still couldn't say directly; there are no
words for it. I didn't know if he called it making love or fucking or whatever,
but it was a feeling, a desire that I couldn't ignore. It had remained with me
since that time together in the caves, when he'd held me close and I hadn't
minded. When he'd consoled my aching humanity after Reed's
death. When he'd said goodbye. Scar accepted me
as I had him, warts and all, as my mother would say. "Hold me," I
asked. And his arms, those great arms that both killed and protected, came down
around me like steel bands that would never ever let me go.
I felt safe in his
arms, safe from everything, and I turned my lips to his skin and kissed his
chest. He looked down at me, a soft note of inquisition in his trill. I
couldn't resist a small jab. "You're a Warrior, Scar, but are you a
man?" He might have known what it meant, he might not. Either
way, he growled, and it sounded like a tease. He picked me up, ignoring
my shrieks and laughter and stretched me out on the cool grass. My skin had
already gone flush with goosebumps ages ago; his proximity kept them in high relief.
When he reached out and drew designs with one nail on my stomach, it sent an
electric surge through all my pleasure centers, and in spite of how wrong I
might have once believed it to be, it never felt so right.
He seemed interested in
my breasts; he lifted one from its resting place to the side, moving it to
center and watching it fall back into place again. I watched his fascination
with a smirk, but couldn't stifle a gasp when he painfully twisted my nipple. I
instinctively batted his hand away, giggling at his indignant snarl. "That
hurt, you know," I half-chuckled. It hadn't been all that unpleasant, but
boundaries had to be set. He smoothed over the offended nipple with the flat of
his fingers and I smiled at him. His exploration continued further down, and he
tugged aside my pants and panties with little fanfare, pulling them off and
tossing them over his shoulder. "Get right to the point, don't you?"
I asked, but I was already beginning to breathe faster. He purred softly,
reaching out one finger to plumb the dense triangle of curls between my legs.
At the merest
suggestion of touch, I felt my body respond; my legs widened for him and I
lifted my hips up. The instinctual response that orchestrated this movement had
no idea what was initiating it; if it had known, it might have refused to do
anything at all. But Scar was pleased with the response such a limited touch
had brought. He purred softly at me again and then reached further down,
sliding his finger between my labia. I pushed my head back further into the
grass and lifted my hips up further. Did he have any idea what that felt like?
Could he know how sensitive I was? I lifted my head back up, watching him as he
watched me. His purr was constant, his eyes half-lidded, as if he himself gained
pleasure from watching me. His finger dipped lower, tracing along the inside of
me and rubbing in the most maddening and deliberately slow circles. I moaned
and lifted my hips suddenly, trying to take in more of that delicious
sensation.
Scar laughed at me, and
it sounded much more carefree here than it had in that godforsaken temple. He
withdrew his touch and clicked softly at me. "You're a tease," I said
accusingly, still trying to catch my breath. He chuckled softly again, that
clicking purr of his and I felt vengeful. "Alright, two can play at
that." I slid close to him, tucking my hand underneath his propped-up knee
and drawing it back toward his thigh. In the clear light I could see his
stomach muscles tense and I smiled. I drew my hand up between his legs,
brushing a growing bulge with the back of my hand. A low rumble crept out of
him and I heard his breathing catch. I
fumbled with his loincloth and he pushed my hands out of the way impatiently,
removing the constrictive hide.
"Scar, I take back
what I said about you being a man." Scar was obviously a man, and he
leaned back, tucking his arms behind his head. I got the distinct impression he
was satisfied with the look on my face. Undaunted by the task before me, I
leaned forward and dragged my breasts across him, watching the lines in his
neck pull taut as he lifted his head to watch me. I reached between my legs and
gathered some of my own moisture. He moaned when I wrapped my wet hand around
him, and it was an animal sound, a guttural noise that called to something
inside me and begged for me to throw caution to the wind. I stroked him slowly, watching his hands clench harder, and the cords in
his neck go slack and tight as he alternately watched and couldn't watch. When
his head was back and his eyes were closed in pleasure, I leaned down and
flicked my tongue over the tip of his erection.
He roared and sat bolt
upright, taking my upper arm painfully in his fist. His eyes were wild and
desperate, and I could tell by the whimpers that touched the ends of his ragged
breaths that he'd had enough. He wanted me, and God help me, I wanted him back.
He touched my hip and
pulled me roughly to my knees, moving behind me. I could still hear his
breathing, so uneven, so unlike the calm Hunter he had been in the face of
death. I knew that this was a large step for both of us. It wasn't so much an
expression of trust; we'd trusted each other with our lives in Antarctica. This
was more of an expression of desire, and for us to admit that desire and do this
forbidden act together and accept the consequences was the most proof of his
trust that I would ever need. I pressed my breasts into the grass and presented
myself to him. With his size, he would need all the access to my body that it
was in my power to grant.
He leaned forward,
pressing into me. At first my body resisted, and when he finally pushed past
the resistance, he sank deep inside and I gasped at the pain. I felt skewered
at first, so full I couldn't move, but as Scar began to move inside me, he was
making some of my most tender parts ache with sensation and the pain became
secondary. I reached under my stomach, fumbling between my legs for that small
spot of pleasure that I knew would push me over the edge. Scar had already
begun to move more rapidly, and inspite of my being stretched wide, the pain of
his size was fading. His hand had been resting on my back, but as he began to
move faster, he held my hips steady with both hands. I moaned long and low, and
felt Scar's answering rumble thrum through our joined bodies. His motions had
become less rushed and more powerful, pushing with enough force to knock me off
balance. My own pleasure was peaking, and I closed my eyes so tight that spots
bloomed. "Scar," I moaned, shivering and shaking as my muscles
released their pent-up tension. His
rumbles and clicks became groans on the end of ragged breaths, the groans
becoming roars as his thrusts grew deeper and more erratic. He went rigid and
ground himself against me, and I felt a warmth
spreading inside me. He pushed again, seating himself deeper and remaining
there, pressing his chest to my back. His dreadlocks fell over his shoulders,
and they moved gently as his breathing puffed out of him. He shifted his hips
and withdrew, exhaling hard as he did so. I whimpered as he left me; the twin
loss of his body and that intimate connection between souls made my heart ache.
He slid his hand
underneath us, encircling my belly. He leaned back and sat in the grass,
pulling me with him. I felt his solid chest behind my back, and his head
settled over my right shoulder. His tusks were drawing small circles on my
skin, and his purr was strong in my ear. I smiled, letting my hand drift down
and cover his. I knew that he would have to leave, possibly even soon, but for
the moment- just for this moment- I let his presence drive off all my doubts
and fears, and I closed my eyes against the world and existed only for him.
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