marlowemuses | Now I'm seeing red, not thinking straight

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Now I'm seeing red, not thinking straight

It was strange, how suddenly the world had changed at the end of the war. The alliance had suddenly unlocked some classified new ability that only certain fighters could wield, and only through the use of navigators, but any navigator would do, and the rumors were that the technique used navigators up and drained them, making them disposable. Interchangeable. Not like the rare and highly-skilled fighters.

With the end of the war, a general--a fighter--had taken over presidency of the alliance with a landslide victory. The surviving fighters were all war heroes, lavishly rewarded.

And Abel, at the top of his class, was still in the academy at the end of the war, and graduated with no war and no purpose. But the alliance was what he wanted, and he'd worked to earn his title as a navigator, so he took it, and the position he was offered. He was to be paired with a fighter, one of the war heroes of the alliance. An honor, they said, that he'd earned, through his hard-work and skill.

But that wasn't quite right, because there wasn't a war anymore. They'd wiped out the Colterons, and they had enough military power to conquer any other races that appeared within reach. Abel didn't know what this position was, with his assignment to a fighter. He was given the code name to match his fighter: Cain.

It occurred to him that some navigator before had been called Abel. Whoever that navigator was, they were probably dead now.

Packing up his little room at the academy, Abel boarded a transport and went to meet his fate.

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Abel tenses up in surprise at the kiss, but he doesn't resist it. He's never been kissed before, and he certainly didn't expect it to be like this. He can't precisely object, though.

Resting his hands against Cain's bare chest, which is a very nice bare chest and unquestionably the nicest bare chest he's ever had the privilege of touching, Abel tentatively returns the kiss, or at least tries to keep up with it.

Well this is definitely a good start. There's no resistance, and his navigator is kissing back, laying his cold hands on his chest. It's fine, really. Cain hasn't exactly bothered to go for anyone else since his previous navigator died- not out of sentimentality, of course, it's just.... well... he hasn't figured that one out yet. It doesn't matter.

It matters even less because this navigator seems to respond to him right away, despite having met only five minutes ago. Cain slides his fingers into Abel's hair and tugs him even closer, then bites his lip hard, digging his teeth in hard enough to make him bleed.

Abel cries out at the bite and struggles back from him, hurt and confused at why a sweet kiss suddenly turned into pain. His first kiss and it turns into a betrayal like this, for no reason that Abel can understand. He presses his hand to his lip, eyes wet with the sting of pain on his sensitive lip. "The fuck--"

Cain laughs, reaching out to grab Abel's hand away from his face so he can get a good look at the mark he left there. It actually looks good on him. He likes Abel's cute, innocent face better this way. "You're my bitch now. Don't want you, or anyone else to ever forget that."

He lets go, then heads out of the room, toward the kitchen, expecting Abel to follow. "Come on, Abel. Get your sweet ass moving. You're never gonna keep up with me if you don't eat. What do you like?"

"You can't just bite people," Abel argues, following after him and pressing his hand to his face again, trying to figure out how badly he's wounded. "We have to clean this. Why would you--you bit me." Abel knew that fighters were dangerous and unpredictable, but he didn't think that they were rabid.

"I don't just bite people. I bit you." Cain tosses a glance over his shoulder and smirks. "And you're going to leave it alone because it's meant to be a scar. You're my navigator and everyone's going to damn well know that."

Cain has always been the possessive type, but now that he has something to truly possess? He doesn't give a shit about holding back from taking it to the next level. And if this navigator doesn't like it, he'll get a new one. "They did tell you what you're here for, didn't they? You're a navigator. Your job is clear."

"Fuck off," Abel snaps. He follows Cain into the kitchen and gets a wet paper towel to press to his lip to deal with the bleeding. While holding this to his face, he snoops around and quickly finds a bottle of vodka.

Knocking back a swig of vodka without bothering with a glass, Abel immediately coughs, shudders, and has to lean against the counter to cope with how much that stings against his fresh wound. He splashes a little more vodka onto a clean paper towel and then presses that against his lip, swearing internally.

So this one's feisty. Good. It would be a shame if this got boring far too quickly. He opens the fridge and pulls out two beers, then watches Abel, mildly amused as he tries to attack a bottle of vodka but ends up getting attacked by it instead. Honestly, this is the most innocent looking thing he's ever seen. Innocent and feisty. He supposes the alliance finally did their homework.

"The only fucking off we'll be doing is in the bedroom. And the shower... and this counter. The couch is nice and big. I like that wall, too." He sets the beers down and comes over, snatching the paper towel away from Abel and pours more vodka on it. He grips Abel's chin, keeping him still while he inspects the damage, then carefully presses the paper towel back against it. "I'm not a doctor, but I think you'll live."

Abel winces, expecting to be hurt again when Cain grabs him, but Cain just helps with Abel's alcohol antiseptic instead. Abel doesn't fight him, a little too much in shock from being intentionally hurt for the first time in his life. Little tremors go through his body, though he otherwise manages to keep his trauma hidden.

"What, you're not gonna tell me to fuck off again?" Cain keeps his eyes on the wound, smirk still on his face. He waits till the bleeding has mostly stopped, then tosses the paper towel into the garbage across the kitchen.

"All better. Now have another drink and look through the fridge, find yourself something to eat. What's mine is yours, and all that shit." He notices the tremors, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't really care, either. He got his point across, at least.

Abel looks through the fridge, choosing some juice and apple sauce that he won't have to chew. Then he takes the beer. He'll just subsist on sugar and alcohol, it's fine.

Glaring at Cain as he drinks his juice and beer, separately, he keeps on the far side of the kitchen from him, wary of this psychopath he's been assigned to.

He considers forcing Abel to eat more than that... gotta keep his strength up after all, but he'll leave him alone about it for now. He drinks down some of his beer, eying the other man.

"Silent treatment, huh." It's fine, at least Abel isn't a bother. He also hasn't stormed out of here yet, which is good, cause Cain wouldn't want a little bite to scare him off.

But still, its better to make sure. "So here's the thing. You do what you're supposed to do and we won't have a problem. You can make this easy, or you can make this hard. It's all up to you. But if you can't handle being a navigator, the door's right there. I've had about three of you already. It's all the same to me."

"So by navigator, do you mean 'fucktoy', or do you actually intend to do training exercises with me in case we get called back to action?"

Three other navigators. Dead or driven off. Abel doesn't want to know. All the options are bad.

"Fucktoy. That's a pretty good way of putting it. I'm glad you're catching on." That indignant look on Abel's face is really something. It seems that he only opens his mouth when something rude or dirty comes out of it. Abel seems to be well on his way.

"Of course we'll do training exercises as well. I don't just sit around here on my ass all day. Gotta pretend something exciting is gonna happen, right?" There may never be another war they have to fight and Cain knows that's a good thing, but he's been fighting for so long that he doesn't know what to do with himself nowadays. "I'm the best fighter there is. You should consider yourself lucky." Pushing off the counter, he crosses the kitchen to stand in front of Abel. "Am I your first fighter, Abel?"

Abel's cheeks flush, but he keeps up his glare anyway, standing his ground. "I've had dozens," he lies, proving Cain's assumption right. "They used to pass me around the barracks. I was the most popular navigator. I once had four fighters at a time."

Cain's amused look falters for a moment, replaced with a tinge of jealousy. There's no reason for him to be jealous, it's not like he can't tell Abel is lying, but the thought of his navigator laid out in front of four other guys, sucking and licking and getting fucked- no. He wants this one to be his.

"Oh yeah? I should call up some of my friends, then. Sounds like you enjoyed that a lot. How about it?" He places a hand on Abel's chest and walks him back against the counter. "I know at least five who haven't been assigned a navigator yet. I'm sure they'd love to get a taste of you."

Abel stumbles back, flustered, and quickly outmatched at the game that he started. He could have sworn that he saw Cain falter for a moment, but then he was back again, worse than ever.

When Abel hits the counter, it startles him badly enough that he drops the beer in his hand. The bottle doesn't break, but it tips over and starts spilling out across the floor at their feet.

"What's the matter? Don't you want to be popular here, too?" Abel is a horrible liar, but he looks damn good when he blushes like that.

The only reaction to the bottle being dropped is Cain tilting his head, looking down at the bottle on the floor, letting out a soft huff. "Well that's a damn waste. How about I get that for you?" It's better this way. Abel is far too jumpy and Cain doesn't mind fiery, but he doesn't want his navigator to be completely skittish. He gets down on his knees, picking the bottle up and holds it out to Abel, but he stays down there, dragging his hand up along Abel's groin. "On second thought, we don't need the rest of those guys, do we? We'll be just fine on our own."

Abel takes the bottle without really thinking about it, and then puts it on the counter so he won't knock it over again. He gasps as Cain gropes him, and curls his hands around the edge of the counter, gripping hard to stabilize himself and to keep from panicking. He's fantasized for so long about things like this. It was easy to offer those lies to Cain because he'd thought about it. Dreamed about being claimed and treated like a fucktoy.

The reality was harder to deal with, especially while his lip still stung, but he certainly didn't hate the sight of Cain on his knees in front of him, stroking him through his pants. "Cain..."

Abel isn't slipping away, or shoving him back, so it's a start. Cain is perfectly fine with having a fucktoy at his disposal, but he isn't going to force himself on Abel if he really doesn't want it. "See? I can be nice," he smirks up at him before leaning in to mouth up along the growing bulge in Abel's pants.

He slides his hands up along Abel's thighs, moving around to grip his ass and pull him closer, burying his face in deeper. Cain isn't above giving a little to get what he wants, and if Abel is as inexperienced as Cain thinks he is, what better way to get him wanting more than a good blowjob?

"Oh," Abel moaned, because Cain's mouth was hot and wet and he could feel it through the fabric of his trousers with every breath. Very surprised at the turn this had taken but unable to resist, Abel's hand moved to Cain's hair. It was soft, and Abel like the feel of it against his hand almost as much as he liked the face nuzzling at his crotch. "Um."

Good boy, Cain thinks to himself as Abel's hand slides into his hair. Getting involved is always a good sign and Cain rewards him by undoing his pants and yanking them down. He tilts his head a little and nips at Abel's balls, then runs his tongue over the length of his cock before tugging his briefs down like he's opening a present.

He doesn't wait for protest or sound of approval, his mouth circles right about Abel's cock, tongue running along the slit before he slides his lips down.

It all happens very quickly, and Abel hasn't quite put together whether or not he wants to object to this when suddenly Cain's mouth is around him, hot and wet and welcoming, and Abel tightens his hand in Cain's hair to encourage him. He gasps with the pleasure of it, keeping his hips pressed to the counter so he won't thrust forward, starting to make little keening noises as Cain's tongue explores him.

Cain can't imagine Abel will object after this, not when he can take him in so deep and pull sounds out of him like that. He glances up to see the look on Abel's face, skimming a hand up along against the taught muscles in his stomach, then higher up to pinch and twirl one of Abel's nipples between his fingers.

Abel's in the middle of a satisfied moan when suddenly Cain's fingers pinch at his nipple and he yelps, surprised by the pain and the new sensation. "Cain!" he grouses, but it's hard to stay displeased while Cain is swallowing him down like that, and Abel arches with pleasure, knees faltering. "Ah--fuck--"

He doesn't know to warn before he comes, and it all happens so suddenly, much faster than when he touches himself. Abel's hand twitches in Cain's hair, and then he's coming.

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