A story for Halloween by Sage Harper
Author’s
notes:
Inspired by last year's 'Cloudbase
Costume Party' at Spectrum Headquarters.
Thank you
Chris for the beta.
Destiny had chosen her
costume with great care. It wasn’t particularly revealing, that was just not her
style, but with every curve accentuated she knew full well it would turn the
heads of any red-blooded male. That was the objective, she assumed, though she
only had eyes for one. Once the party got underway she wasn’t planning on being
much of an angel.
~oo0oo~
Considering the
size of the officers lounge, and how it took relatively few people to fill it,
Destiny was a little surprised it took so long to discover him there. That said
it wasn’t too difficult, to just follow some instinctive draw.
“You make a
very dashing vampire,” she noted, coming to stand beside him as he filled a
paper cup with a ladle full of fruit punch.
Captain Magenta
smiled, and had handed her the full cup before she had managed to pick up an
empty one for myself. She thanked him, for such an act of unforced chivalry.
“You promised
me a dance, yesterday,” she said, having finished the drink. “I hope you have
not forgotten.”
“A dance with
the devil,” Magenta smiled. “How
could I pass on such a prospect… I’m just biding my time, that’s all. I didn’t figure you were really one for
ballads.”
She nodded,
glancing over her shoulder. At the sea of couples moving, in something close to
time, to some hideously cheesy love song which had inexplicably been a best
selling single for the past month. Destiny was not averse to romancing, but had
to draw a line at that.
Owing to habit,
her gaze sought out Captain Grey, noting he was dancing with Lieutenant
Terracotta, his fifth partner for as many dances.
‘I’m really
going to have to quit doing that,’ Destiny decided. ‘This paying him more
attention than our now platonic relationship warranted is starting to get
embarrassing.’
If Magenta had
noticed her shift in attention he didn’t acknowledge it.
“Now this is
more like it,” he said,
acknowledging the shift of music to the brewing of a heady Latin beat. “Guess I’m gonna have to take back all
the grief I gave my sister for her making me go to salsa classes,” he added with
a rueful smile. “You know the moves?”
That question
transported Destiny back many years before. Learning to dance, amongst other
things, from Rafael; a law student, with an Italian father and Spanish mother,
who she had dated whilst studying in Rome.
Coming back to
the present she simply nodded, propped her pitchfork against the table, and
allowed herself to be lead onto the floor.
For a moment it was inevitable awkward, as they jostled a little, negotiating the height difference. However it did not take long to find a collective sense of rhythm, surrendering to the beat, feeling it pulse through their veins. He effortlessly took the lead, and she allowed him to do so. Something about that thrilled her; she was so used to be in control and giving orders that someone else taking charge was a novelty. Destiny was not surprised that it was natural to him. Yet for a man who had commanded an entire crime syndicate, his supremacy had a certain tenderness to it. Which culminated in him being an excellent lover.
As the dance progressed, she
felt his hand unconsciously slip lower, to rest just below her hip, fingers
trailing down her skin, setting all her nerves alight. He leant closer,
whispered something to her. She was unable to clearly comprehend what he said,
but the intimacy of the gesture, his warm breath against her skin, thrilled her
to the core. In that moment she too ached for him, feeling her every muscle
molten, yet alert. She looked up, locking on to his brown eyes darkening with
desire, his lips so painfully deliciously inviting. It seemed almost instinct to
reach for them, to brush her thumb along that tender skin. Yet she held back,
just slightly, instead tracing the trail of fake blood smeared toward his chin,
idly wondering how well it would hold up should things get heated.
Again he lent
toward her, and that she took as her moment to act, leaning close in a fluid
motion, convinced of their fate…
… So his
pulling away startled her.
Destiny frowned
slightly; had she really completely misjudged his intentions?
No, not all;
that desire was still apparently on his part. From what she understood of his
past and general character, Destiny knew that if Magenta wanted something he
would generally go to whatever lengths were necessary to achieve that. He had an
innate ease around women, could charm them in such a casual way. So why the
impromptu about turn?
“Not right
now,” he said simply, by way of explanation.
Sensing her
disappointment, Magenta did kiss her; but on the cheek, seemingly a neutral
gesture of platonic fondness.
“But that
doesn’t mean we can’t find someplace more private,” he added, offering his hand
to her.
~oo0oo~
The walk back
to his quarters was almost unbearable, as Destiny’s head was filled with all
manner of thoughts well-suited to her costume. Despite the gesture, Magenta
didn’t end up touching her. They simply walked side by side, for all the world
appearing to be merely friends without hint of what simmered beneath that
facade.
Her crimson
lipstick held out a good forty seconds longer than Destiny did, the redness
consuming her skin and his, melding it together as one with the fake blood, as
she kissed him, frantic and claiming as a drowning man grappling for a lifeline,
pinned against the inside of the door. He countered in kind; now was not the
time for delicate romance.
Lost entirely
in the moment and each other, they ceased kissing only as their clothing was
cast aside with utter abandon. Ordinarily, Destiny would never consider being so
careless with clothing, but at that time all that concerned her was him. As if
he were a most intoxicating drug, and she was helpless to resist a fix. His
murmurings of satisfaction and scent of his skin only increasing the potency.
He broke apart,
guiding her further into the apartment with the general aim of reaching the bed;
but she reeled him back in, nipping at his shoulder in a way she knew would
drive him crazy in the best possible way. For a moment she did consider the
durex box she knew was lurking in the bedside cabinet, but discarded the thought
having taken those matters into her own hands. All the while Magenta whispered
to her, a running commentary of how wonderful she was and exactly how he
intended to express his adoration. He certainly knew how to make a girl feel
appreciated.
The cold
unyielding of the wall at her back was a certain comfort to Destiny, so aware of
her feverish skin and the strong broad strokes with which Magenta caressed it.
Giving a gasp which evolved into a moan as every touch, pleading as he teased
her, bringing her closer to the brink, wrapping her legs around him as he
slammed into her. Until, her body finally succumbing, she cried out as pleasure
rippled through every cell.
~oo0oo~
“Fine Catholics
we make,” Magenta said, over the hum of the shower. “Remind me, how many ‘Hail
Marys’ have we got to do for that?”
Destiny
giggled, sat on the ensuite bathroom counter, comfortably unwound and still
reeling.
Despite fitting
the bill of ‘tall, dark, handsome and filthy rich’, Magenta was probably amongst
the last men she had expected to fall for. Yet she had, just as he, when neither
were expecting to find such things. It had not been a particularly
straightforward courtship thus far, with Spectrum regulations amongst the things
conspiring against them. Still they contrasted, yet complimented
each other so well; and both knew they could never be happier any other way. In
fact, she was starting to suspect he may very well be ‘the one’, and vice versa.
He stepped out
of the shower, and she laughed anew.
“What?” he
demanded.
“You still have
lipstick, and, umm, blood I suppose, all over you face,” she replied.
“Thanks for the
heads up.” He allowed her to scrub at the tint with a soapy washcloth. “I
thought that lipstick wasn’t meant to come off for a hundred kisses, or
something.”
“Maybe, I
wasn’t counting.”
She wrung out
the cloth and tossed it into the laundry bag. Then a thought occurred to her:
“I wonder who we shall see scampering back to their rooms still in costume come
tomorrow morning?”
“Not you,
obviously,” Magenta noted. “I did figure there was a reason you keep a spare
uniform here.”
Destiny nodded
and, suddenly weary from the long day and bout of activity, leant against him.
“Well there you
go,” Magenta began, instinctively pulling her into an embrace. “I have done my
trick and treat for this year.”
“I am aware
what the treat was,” she smiled at the memory of her not so distant past .“But
not the trick.”
“Oh I’m sure
Ochre will tell you all about it tomorrow.” He smirked, kissing her forehead.
“Come on then, Bijou, let’s get to bed.”
Destiny smiled
as Magenta scooped her up and carried her toward to sofa bed, waiting so
invitingly for them. As the quarters were only fitted with single beds the
senior staff had used their initiative and provided their own innocuous looking
couches, which could be converted into double beds should the need arise.
“I think,” she stated, “that
is the best idea you’ve had since asking me to dance.”
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(Pictures are montages by Chris Bishop for last year’s Spectrum Halloween Party)
Any
comments? You can contact the Spectrum Headquarters site