Alternate Realities

NSFW, Fade

Check below... totally going R... mature... sexual overtones on this one.... FADE (Farley x Shade)

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Soldiers are rough and my body wants the scratch of callouses and the bruises of being squeezed too tight. I want to be worn ragged and exhausted. I need to give up my limbs and my being to someone powerful, strong, and subtly out of control. I've been waking up thinking about it, fantasizing until climax about the soreness of my last romp with a captain.

Ever since Shade was pulled back from the field, he's been out on assignments. His ability is baffling and so useful, he barely gets any rest. Our in-person interactions have been succinct to say the least. I give orders, he takes them. But he doesn't just nod and salute like a good boy should. He sasses back and yesterday he teased me. All signs that he just might be game to help meet my needs.

It's not going to be the first time I've slept with a subordinate. It can get messy. Shade is just put together too well for me not to give in to the impulse. One or both of us could be dead in the next battle, and I don't see the point of keeping life clean with that hanging over my head.

He's back from five days in the Lakelands organizing with the Guard in the far north. In the back corner of the mess hall, he's complaining about the bitter cold of the tundra and the taste of seal meat, and he looks more alive than the walking corpses around him. Rations have been short and the troupes are wilting. I'll be discussing solutions with my father in the morning, but for now, I have a different agenda.

"Barrow."

"Sir?" He and the others stand, snapping to attention like their conscription training has taught them. The way he says, sir instead of ma'am is one of those buttons he pushes on the regular.

"Debrief, now."

"In public? I must protest." His friends laugh for a moment, and then silence themselves.

"Careful what you wish for, Barrow. A lot of things can befall a soldier without witnesses," I examine the button on my shirt sleeve to come off as bored. I let out a sigh and turn before snapping over my shoulder, "Now, Barrow."

Shade follows me, head down in concentration and I hope his heart rate is already up. When we turn to the residence section, where I have a private room, I hear the stutter in his pace.

"Captain?"

We're two feet apart in an empty hallway when I make my case, to his astonishment.

"Barrow, you've been a thorn in my side since we extracted you from the front. And there can only be one conceivable reason why you'd be so foolish as to crack jokes at my expense. You can walk back to your buddies and pretend that none of this happened, and that's perfectly acceptable. You have my word that nothing comes back on you. Or, as I have alluded, I've been paying attention. And you can follow me and see where this goes."

"Yes, sir," he smirks, taking the first step forward.

I make sure there's still distance between us until the door is closed. But his greedy hands might move faster than light.

The tangerines that have become a routine and tired item in the mess hall cover the savory remnants of his dinner. I'm shocked at how his lips have transformed the flavor into something I could crave. I'm even more shocked when the hard press of his body has finesse and premeditation. Not a single note of brutish, mindlessness taints the process of removing each other's clothes.

He has the sharp edges on his fingertips and palms that I've been dreaming of, but he uses them like painter might use his brushes. They tickle and tug at my skin, goosebumps prickling down my neck and shoulders and the shivers flow down my spine to everywhere. While I usually have to force a man into control, Shade is already directing my body beneath his. I suppose calling him to my room is a direct command to bring me pleasure, but I'm also not selfish.

I measure my turn by small bursts of pleasure before I turn the tables. With him between my fingers and then tasting him in my mouth, he's still and shocked, taken aback at what I'm willing to give. It started out as my need, but he's so good with his tongue that I'm committed to bringing him back again and again until we've tired of each other's tricks.

Sex is sex, just like a good run is just another run in a lifetime of training–until it's not. And somewhere under Shade's insistent and careful motions, I forget about bruises and roughness. I don't crave the crush of a brute and the climax of clashing libidos. I'm bending under his hands and his lips. He's so careful and gentle that it's not a climax but a tumble that rolls over and over until I crash into some barrier that can't take anymore without bursting.

I don't even mind when he settles into sleep behind me, arms around me like I've never allowed. The man behind the covert letters, the one that won me through his mind, has just completed a coup d'etat. I am not prepared to ever let him out of my bed, or maybe my sight, at least not until I uncover his flaws. Until he disappoints, like they all do. But I hope he won't and in the same breath hope my head clears by the morning and I cast him back out to his routines and assignments unencumbered by the rush of emotions I hate to feel.