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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Sure, Abel can take his time and drag this out, frustrating Cain to the point where he leaves, but what would be the point in that? Cain would then ignore Abel in return and their training would go to shit.

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?"

"They were in the kitchen," Abel says, smiling a tiny bit at how frustrated Cain is about his keys. It makes it hard to take him seriously, and he's kind of cute when he's this flustered over something trivial.

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.

Thank god Abel is an observant one, that's pretty handy as well. Still, he lets out a huff as Abel passes him, then follows to the kitchen scowling at the amused look on the other man's face. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks."

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?"

Abel tenses a little at the kiss, but he doesn't resist it. When it turns out to be brief and sweet, he blinks at Cain in confusion, surprised by what seems to be an attempt to reassure. Blushing, he stares at Cain, trying to figure out how to answer that.

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.

Being wary of Cain is probably the smartest way to go, and Cain himself doesn't exactly try to hide that part of himself either. All he really wants to do is stay in control of any situation, and keep people on their toes.

"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."

"I think you should increase the bet," Abel says, following after him and keeping a wary eye on him. Abel knows his own training scores are outstanding, but none of the fighter cadets he'd trained with were an adequate match for him. Cain's supposed to be the best, and Abel wants to know if that's true. "And then try to keep up."

Oh, well that's something Cain actually likes to hear, if Abel really is as good as he thinks he is. He gives Abel a once over, along with an entirely amused look. His last navigators couldn't quite keep up with him and it frustrated Cain to no end. He really is hoping he gets a better deal with this one. "Well if you fight as good as you fuck..."

Abel blushes at that, losing his cockiness and flustering a little. That can't possibly be a compliment. He barely cooperated, and he had no experience to help him. "Is that an insult?" he asks, pride stung and cheeks flaming.

Cain laughs quietly, shaking his head. It's amazing how Abel's entire confidence can shift with a single sentence. It's just like the way he moans like a whore and then gets indignant about it a second later. Cain wonders if this is how Abel does everything in life and he finds that he wants to know more. "With that sweet ass of yours? Not even a little bit. I'm surprised you've never had a dick in you before. Your body's so good at taking it."

He swings the door open at ground level, holding it open for Abel, smirk still on his face.

Abel's too flustered to come up with any kind of retort to that. Blushing deeply, he shoots Cain a nervous, half-hearted little glare as he steps past him. He's not sure how he should react to that, and he's deeply annoyed at the part of himself that is flattered and soothed by it.

Cain follows after him, pointing to the black car straight ahead while unlocking it with the electronic key. "And now that we'll be fucking on the regular, you'll get even better. So yeah, we'll increase the bet."

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.

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.

Cain starts up the car and tears out of the lot, ignoring just about law as he gets on the road leading to the training facility. He likes to go fast, which definitely makes him more reckless with driving, but perfect for flying.

"You know, if you only talk to me when you're snapping back at me for something I've said, then I'm just gonna keep antagonizing you to get you to talk." Seems perfectly logical. It's not that Abel is shy- Cain already knows that, even with that blush running across his face. "It's less fun when you just shut up and take it."

Abel's eyes widen, blush worsening. "You're such an ass," he snaps, knowing perfectly well that he's only proving Cain right. "If you only talk to me to antagonize me, then it's no wonder that I only talk to you in retorts."

"The best ass around, I'll have you fuckin' know." And like a charm, it works. Abel is talking again. He's really bringing this on himself. He should just talk the rest of the time, too. "I haven't been only talking to you to antagonize you. But that seems to be the only thing you hear."

He shrugs, getting off the highway, heading for the large base. "It's your first day. I'll cut you some slack."

"Not better than mine," Abel says, the softest snark, because he's curious about what will happen, and he can't resist a little bit of resistance to Cain's claim to being the best ass around.

Cain scoffs, glancing over at Abel. To be quite honest, no one's ever challenged his ass before. It's a good ass. It's a famous ass. But if he thinks about it- which he full on does- Abel has a pretty nice ass too. Not that he's gonna go on about that right now. "How the fuck would you know? You haven't even gotten a good look at my ass yet."

Abel bites his lip to try and contain the laughter as Cain seriously thinks about this, but the giggles escape at Cain's conclusion. "I thought you would know," he says, trying very earnestly to contain his laughter. "Maybe we need a disinterested third party."

"Good luck trying to find someone who isn't interested in my ass," he says, as cocky as ever. "But I guess we can take a poll on yours if you want. You wanna bend over for all the fighters on base?"

He wonders if Abel can blush harder than he already has. And he wonders how jealous he'd be if Abel actually said yes.

"You'd get jealous if I did," Abel guesses. It's only a guess, but he likes the sound of it better than he likes the thought of Cain sharing him out without compunction.

Smiling but still shy, Abel's hands fidget nervously as they arrive at the training area. He gets out of the car, keeping his head high. He's proud of himself and his abilities. A few fighters aren't going to change that.

Cain scoffs, but there's something about the look on his face that makes it clearly evident that he would be jealous. Very jealous, probably. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see, Princess."

At least Abel is smiling now. That makes his life a lot easier. Although, he knows how other fighters get now that the war is over and they can have whatever they want. He's seen it more than a few times- fighters fighting over navigators, trying to lay claim to the ones they'd rather have.

Cain is pretty sure he doesn't want another one, at least for now. This one is cute and pliable. He's got a mouth on him, too. And that indignant look is not so bad either. "Just don't veer too far away from me. The other fighters might not be so nice."

Abel keeps his mouth shut at that, jaw tense. He has some arguments to make about how 'nice' Cain has been, but from what he's heard of fighters, Cain might be telling the truth about the others being worse. Abel certainly doesn't want to be cornered in a locker room and used by a group of fighters in turn, no matter how he might have fantasized about it. He doesn't want to need Cain's protection, but suspects that he does.

"I just want to train," Abel says, pushing away his fears by focusing on training and studying, the way he has always done.

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Now I'm seeing red, not thinking straight

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