Abel (
reliantnav) wrote in
marlowemuses2018-03-14 03:52 pm
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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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He lets go of Abel's hair and slides his hand down his back until he can grab those hips again, letting out a low moan as he tugs Abel's ass back toward him. In one smooth motion, he rocks his hips up so he can hit the sweet spot that he knows will make Abel keen and jerk under him.
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"Fuck, Abel. You take it so good. Im gonna come. Ahh... fuck" His hips jerk forward a handful of times before his fingers dig deep into Abel's hips and he comes hard, spilling into him.
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He turns the shower on hot and locks the door, scrubbing himself clean and then just shaking, lingering in the shower for a long time before he finally emerges, clean and wrapped in a towel, glancing around warily for Cain.
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Well that was definitely something. Hopefully something he can work with, though he figures it doesn't really matter. Either Abel gets with the damn program, or Cain will just trade him in. They get to have anything they want, after all. They're decorated war heroes with some actual pull now. There's something about Abel that he kinda likes, though, so he hopes with some breaking in, he'll be a keeper.
Cain is about to light a cigarette when he hears Abel leave the bathroom and start creeping around. He tosses the pack aside and stretches out on the bed, tucking the cigarette behind his ear as he waits.
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He knows it's inevitable that Cain's going to watch, and he doesn't want to seem prudish by locking himself in the bathroom to change. So he lets the towel drop but keeps his back turned as he dresses in soft white pajamas and then heads for the kitchen again, ignoring Cain.
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He does watch as Abel changes, not even bothering to hide it as he takes that time to light up a cigarette as well. "Hey, are..." He starts, but Abel pretty much makes a mad dash out of the room again and Cain sits up quickly, annoyed at being ignored and walked out on. "HEY!"
Grumbling, he gets off the bed and stalks after Abel, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "Hey, what the fuck? What are you doing?"
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"Stop ignoring me, asshole." He's not very good at this. He's better at punching people in the face when he wants attention. "Fine. Do whatever you want. I'm gonna go train." With that, he turns and heads back to the bedroom, tossing some clothes around to find his training gear.
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His boots are next, and then he grabs his dog tags off the side table, putting them on. "You better change quick or I'm leaving you here."
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But he gets out his gear anyway, setting the beer down on the bedside table as he changes. "Okay," he says, keeping half an eye on Cain as he gets dressed.
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He doesn't watch Abel get changed this time because he's too busy looking for his car keys. Another thing he's just not used to anymore and he drops them down randomly like an idiot.
He curses up a storm along the way, then stalks back to Abel. "Have you seen my keys anywhere?"
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Ready to go now, Abel brushes past him, finding the keys pushed into a corner of the kitchen counter. He picks them up and holds them out to Cain, just barely resisting a smile.
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He looks Abel up and down, eyes landing on his face, then he reaches out to cup his face and leans in for a kiss. "We good?"
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He's not sure, really, whether they're okay, but he wants to keep trying his best and he's curious about the little gestures of kindness that Cain has shown, even though he's still very wary of the ways Cain has hurt him. Tentatively, he nods, coming down firmly on the side of cooperation.
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"Good." The tentative nod is enough, and he grabs his jacket as he heads out, aiming for the stairs that lead them to the parking lot. "I still train at least a couple times a week, even though it's fucking pointless now, but they got us all holed up in those cushy apartments and you kinda start going out of your damn mind after a while." His nightly activities still include the same thing as on the ship as well. Fighting and fucking- though he supposes with Abel around, he doesn't have to waste any time with other people. At least until he gets bored with this one.
"Better keep up, though. We've got a betting pool going and if you fuck up my standings, I'm gonna be real pissed."
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He swings the door open at ground level, holding it open for Abel, smirk still on his face.
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Maybe after a trial run. He doesn't put too much trust in these navigators, especially with how things have gone in the past. Cain isn't the one who has to prove himself here. Abel is, and he fully intends on getting him to do that.
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Abel gets in the passenger side, keeping his mouth shut, though his red cheeks do plenty of talking for him. He squirms in his seat, feeling sore, and looks out the window, stealing only occasional glances at Cain.
His thoughts replay the memory of being bent over the counter, and all the lust and shame of that.
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