FIC: Pitiless As the Sun
Feb. 17th, 2011 05:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Pitiless As the Sun
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance and beanside
Rating: Adult
Pairing: JDM/JA
A/N: Retriever-verse. Violence, sex, dystopia. ETA: And a big BIG thank you topoisontaster for tightening the corset strings. Sorry I'm an asshole who forgets to credit, bb. *loff*
The medtech hadn’t given Jeff the okay to resume normal activity. Jeff pointed out immediately that it hadn’t said no activity, either. As if one stupid medtech would have the balls to tell a Retriever no.
Jensen himself struggled to tell Jeff no, and he was relatively sure Jeff wouldn’t tear his throat out. His reluctance had more to do with Jeff’s obvious yearning for a focus. Retrievers were not built to rest.
They hadn’t made it into the Quarter yet, though Jeff had made noises about going back out tomorrow. Instead, courtesy of his mysterious friends, supplies had come to them: piles of strong composite timbers, and clear flexible panels of glassine that were taller than Jeff.
Jeff’s wounds hadn’t stopped him from hauling things up onto their rooftop. He was working on cutting the glassine into pieces now, stripped down to the waist in the cool air as he wielded a cyber knife with a deft hand. It had been Jensen’s job to help hold the long boards of wood for cutting, to insist that his Retriever take breaks to drink the pot of iced tea he’d brewed.
They hadn’t discussed the scene in the bathroom, or what had happened in the Quarter. Jeff had come come smelling of a whore’s cologne, with blood on his wrist and knuckles. Whatever had happened, he hadn’t taken his ease with them.
Jensen shivered, remembering the press of Jeff’s hard cock against his hip.
He’d thought he’d been prepared for whatever his Retriever had wanted to do with him, but Jeff’s embrace had surprised him. Jeff had pressed his face against Jensen’s throat and sniffed, and oh, the scratch of his stubble, the heat of his breath. Jeff had let the rage and the drugs run through him while his iron fingers curled around Jensen’s wrists, squeezing until he felt the bones grind and groan. It had hurt, it should have scared him, but Jensen had thought only, yes.
The bruises were still there, perfect shackles on his wrist. He rubbed one deliberately, the ache and sting. The feeling of it had sunk deep in his stomach, settled into his flesh. It was the first brand his Retriever had given him. It made him feel owned, and that pleased him.
Something had changed between them. An ease that hadn’t been there before. Jensen had looked into the abyss that was his Retriever’s soul, and hadn’t flinched.
Jeff lifted the pane of glassine, sunlight on sweat gilding the lines of his muscles. They might not have gotten much sun in the city’s walls yet, but the ash had burned clear in other places. Jeff was a pleasure to watch, even with the healing pink wound across his stomach, the black stitches like insect legs. He wasn’t bulky like the newer Retrievers, just lean and strong. Jensen had seen how fast he could be when he wanted. If it had been any other Retriever... yes, Jensen would have feared.
He had not feared Weatherly. He had paid for that.
He liked Jeff. He liked the quiet artist that lived under Jeff’s skin, the dry sense of humor and the ready smile. He wished Jeff would let him do more for him--take more of the pain and madness. It would only take one uplink. One touch of their minds, and he could soothe.
Jeff turned, meeting his eyes with a questioning smile, and Jensen realized he had suited deeds to thought and reached for Jeff.
It was on his tongue to apologize for the familiarity, but then Jeff’s barriers slid open to him. Trusting.
The uplink had never been so tempting. Jensen slid in as though he belonged, like he imagined someone might slip into warm ocean waters (when there had been oceans). His mental touch ghosted through Jeff’s surface thoughts, feeling the currents of emotion, his relief at being allowed to move his body in physical labor. The rage lurked beneath Jeff’s superficial thoughts, and Jensen stroked him, settled him. Warmth rose in its place.
And then, Jeff was just there, touching him back; Jensen could almost taste him. It wrapped around him, quieting the call of the Uplink, stroking over him. Jensen started to jerk away, before Jeff could feel what was wrong inside him, but Jeff held him fast. Let Jensen feel his trust, and gratitude, and …. home.
Just like Retriever Prometheus, a traitorous voice murmured in the back of his thoughts.
He quieted it, not wanting Jeff to feel his betrayal. Never a good idea with a Retriever.
Jeff’s contentment settled into him, and Jensen felt his own lips curling into a smile. That quickly, he was back in his body-- the storm clouds of a headache behind his eyes, the lingering bruise at his wrists, the digging distraction of the corset’s boning into his ribs.
Jeff turned back to the wood, tilting his face away.
A few moments later, Jensen felt a deeper brush on his thoughts, and he opened for it.
“Want to help?”Jeff’s mental voice wasn’t much different from his actual voice, unlike a lot of people Jensen had met.
He shoved the thought of his last retriever back again, and nodded. “I’d love to,” he replied, unfolding from the chair that Jeff had parked him in while he used the laser torch. “Tell me what to do.”
Jeff lifted two timbers. “First, we need to set up the frame.”
They worked in concert until the light began to fade and the air began to cool. They succeeded in putting up the frame of the greenhouse, and attaching the first few panels.
Eventually, Jensen became aware of a low ache in his stomach, and a growing sense of cold. A shiver slid down his spine, and he abruptly realized that it wasn’t his sensation. His eyes turned to his Retriever. “I think we’ve done enough for today,” he said.
Jeff made a soft noise of dissent, and picked up another panel of glassine to affix. This time, without Jensen’s help, the pain twisted in his belly sharply.
Jensen deepened the link that neither of them had bothered to close. “Jeff. You’ll hurt yourself. Your stomach is still healing.”
Jeff ignored him with a little grunt, but Jensen felt his frustration and anger at his body’s limitations.
“Retriever.” Jensen moved closer, putting himself within easy reach of a blow. “Stop.” With a silent prayer to the Maiden, he reached out, his fingers brushing over Jeff’s wrist.
His Retriever growled deep in his throat, spinning to face him. In the dimming light, he saw what was sharpening Jeff’s temper. The scratches on his wrist had opened with the activity, and blood flowed down his arm freely.
He didn’t see Jeff move, but suddenly, there was a hand tangled in his hair. Jeff pulled, tilting Jensen’s head back.
‘sobeautifulwhydoeshehavedtobesobeautiful.’ Jeff’s thoughts slid into Jensen’s mind, along with a pulsebeat of need/want that spiked through his body.
A soft chime distracted him’ he watched Jeff blink at the odd feeling of having the Uplink brush his thoughts. Something slid up from Jeff’s mind, but he stifled it quickly, smothering it and hiding before Jensen could get a sense of it. Either way, Jeff let him go, releasing him with a suddenness that would have probably dropped Jensen on his ass if he wasn’t ready for it.
Jensen answered the chime with a tilt of his head. “Yes?”
“There is a package at the front desk for Retriever Bia.”
“Very well. Send it up.”
“It requires the Retriever to come down in person.”
“Will I be sufficient?”
There was a long hesitation. “Yes.”
“Fine. I will be there shortly.”
Jensen gave Jeff a slight smile. “I’ll be right back.”
“No.” Jeff shook his head sharply. “I’ve got it.” Without a word, he stalked to the stairway and headed down into the apartment.
By the time Jensen got moving, he heard the front door close behind his Retriever. Did Jeff think he was unable to fetch a package? Or was it some weird sexual thing that he didn’t want to share. Did Jeff not trust him?
Before he knew what he was doing, the front door was closing behind him, and he was following the faint pull from his connection to Jeff. A slash of rage slid through him, and he doubled his speed. What in the name of the Crone was going on?
The sight that met his eyes when he broke out of the hallway into the main entry way of the Retriever Citadel shouldn’t have startled him. Jeff, still half dressed, but with a stiletto in each
hand was facing off against three Betas, who had obviously been waiting.
The Citadel’s Concierge laid in a puddle of blood, a package sitting on his desk. Ah. They’d used the opportunity to get Jeff down here. Or him. The thought startled him. What would they have done if he’d come down? He glanced around the room nervously, and found a few other Betas watching the fight with interest. Four in all. He logged their positions, sent it to Jeff on a thin thread, and looked back down at his Retriever.
He’d seen Jeff move in the Introduction room, had seen the inherent violence in his Retriever. This was something entirely different.
In the introduction room, Bia had been calm, controlled. Cold.
This was white-hot rage.
Bia moved like one of the dancers he’d seen lithographs of in Old Earth paintings. But no ballerina had ever moved like this. Every step, every gesture was lethal. The blades whirled in a gleaming song, and every note was death.
The Betas rushed him, and Bia stepped back out of their center, letting them compensate or run into each other. Before the closest to him could recover, Bia’s blade sang, and the Beta crumpled, clutching at his newly pierced throat. A one in a million shot, even for a Retriever
The second Beta, a hulking muscled man who reminded Jensen of the pictures he’d seen of twentieth century professional wrestlers, turned towards Bia. Bia moved again, his foot connecting with the Beta’s ribcage, sending him stumbling back. The third Beta lifted his blade, trying to take advantage of Bia’s turned back. Instead, Bia dropped to his knee, letting the kick’s momentum turn him in a low spin.
The blade glanced off Bia’s temple, and blood streamed from the cut. A scalp wound, Jensen reminded himself. Bound to bleed a lot. Still he took a few steps closer--just in case he was needed.
The third Beta wasn’t as muscled as the second. He seemed to be somewhere in between the two styles of Retriever--neither Bia’s grace nor the second man’s bulk.
The second Beta was on his feet, his blade slashing wildly. He was angry, Jensen noted absently. That wouldn’t help him any in this fight.
The third was the real danger. The man was cold, each move sharp and precisely calculated.
A flash of white from across the room drew Jensen’s attention, and he stilled. A figure in a white hooded robe stood by the statue of the Furies, watching him, instead of the fight unfolding on the floor. Jensen stared back, unnerved by the figure’s silent presence, until Bia’s voice drew him back to the fight.
Bia had turned so that he could see both Betas, his teeth bared in an bloody smile. “Come on, boys,” he taunted. “Let’s finish this dance. I’m getting tired of the song.”
The second beta took the taunt, swinging at Bia’s head in a way that his Retriever couldn’t fail to duck.
Instead, Bia stood there, waiting until the last second. When it came, he moved, his blade slipping between the Beta’s ribs with deadly accuracy. Bia shoved the man off his blade and turned to face the last assailant.
The stilettos made lazy arcs in Bia’s hands. Jensen found himself shivering, wondering what other things those hands would do.
It happened so quickly that Jensen only registered a rush of movement on his left before one of the Retrievers who had been watching the fight was behind him. A burly arm slide around his throat. “I’ve got your Librarian, Bia,” called the Retriever.
To Jensen’s shock, Bia froze. His blades stopped for the first time since Jensen had come down. Across the room, the white robed figure had disappeared.
Jensen squirmed against the restraint, gasping in sips of air. “The penalty for harming another Retriever’s El is-”
“What’s the penalty for harming Prometheus’ whore?” the Retriever growled.
Jensen flinched.
“Traitor. Did you think we didn’t know that you helped him?” The Retriever behind him gave him a little shake, and Jensen felt his teeth clack together.
“I didn’t-- I wouldn’t.” Jensen’s voice choked off as the arm at his throat tightened.
He had survived the Uplink, survived a new Retriever, and this was how it would end? Jensen clawed at the Retriever’s arm, gasping for air. The world spun in front of him, and he saw Bia’s-- Jeff’s stricken face. They would force another El on him.
Jeff was an exceptional Alpha, he shouldn’t be forced into anything.
Maybe he would find the new El more appealing.
It was the thought of Jeff’s hands on another Librarian that spurred Jensen into motion. Librarians weren’t very strong--but they were durable. They had to be, to meet the passion of the Retriever and not break. And he had spent the last two months with Jeff, eating food that wasn’t protein bars, and, at least part of that time, deadlifting his unconscious Retriever.
Jensen kicked back his assailant in the shin. It probably didn’t hurt, but it was enough to startle him. Enough that the arm loosened. He squirmed, shoving up on the Retriever’s arm, until he could sink his teeth in.
The Retriever roared, shoving him forward.
If he tripped now, Jensen thought wildly, he was dead. If he tripped--
He tripped. He hit the floor.
Jensen closed his eyes, waiting for the death blow. At least in his fury, the Retriever would likely give him a swift death.
Above him, Jensen heard a wet noise, followed by two thumps.
There came hands on his shoulders, and he willed himself to fight. He wouldn’t let them kill him. He might die, but he wouldn’t leave Jeff willingly.
Someone gripped him by the arms, trying to lift him; Jensen scrabbled and clawed and hissed, lost in his panic and his no that it took him a few seconds to realize that the person who had him now wasn’t fighting back. They were murmuring to him, “Jen-- Calliope, shh, it’s all right now, they’re dead.”
Jeff. Horrified, Jensen stopped struggling and let Jeff gather him up. He barely heard Jeff growl at the gathered Retrievers, hustling Jensen back to their quarters. It wasn’t so quick that Jensen didn’t see the wreckage.
So much blood. The floor, the walls, all blood. His stomach rolled, and Jensen tried not to breathe the sweet copper scent, like wiring, like metal tables with restraints. The salty taste was foul in his mouth.
Jeff was still quietly assuring Jensen that the Retriever was dead. That they were all dead. Of course Jeff would find that comforting.
The doors to their quarters closed. Jensen wanted to sink down to the floor, but he didn’t want to get blood on the carpet. He didn’t want to have to scrub that out, and Jeff wouldn’t want strangers in his home to do it, and--
“Jensen?” Jeff said sharply. “Are you injured?”
Jensen blinked, coming back to himself. To Jeff, bloody and dirty and alive, and looking very worried.
“I’m undamaged,” he finally said. He took the final step closer and pulled his Retriever close, hearing Jeff’s startled grunt, the low thump of his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin.
His Retriever.
Authors:
nilchance and beansideRating: Adult
Pairing: JDM/JA
A/N: Retriever-verse. Violence, sex, dystopia. ETA: And a big BIG thank you to
poisontaster for tightening the corset strings. Sorry I'm an asshole who forgets to credit, bb. *loff*The medtech hadn’t given Jeff the okay to resume normal activity. Jeff pointed out immediately that it hadn’t said no activity, either. As if one stupid medtech would have the balls to tell a Retriever no.
Jensen himself struggled to tell Jeff no, and he was relatively sure Jeff wouldn’t tear his throat out. His reluctance had more to do with Jeff’s obvious yearning for a focus. Retrievers were not built to rest.
They hadn’t made it into the Quarter yet, though Jeff had made noises about going back out tomorrow. Instead, courtesy of his mysterious friends, supplies had come to them: piles of strong composite timbers, and clear flexible panels of glassine that were taller than Jeff.
Jeff’s wounds hadn’t stopped him from hauling things up onto their rooftop. He was working on cutting the glassine into pieces now, stripped down to the waist in the cool air as he wielded a cyber knife with a deft hand. It had been Jensen’s job to help hold the long boards of wood for cutting, to insist that his Retriever take breaks to drink the pot of iced tea he’d brewed.
They hadn’t discussed the scene in the bathroom, or what had happened in the Quarter. Jeff had come come smelling of a whore’s cologne, with blood on his wrist and knuckles. Whatever had happened, he hadn’t taken his ease with them.
Jensen shivered, remembering the press of Jeff’s hard cock against his hip.
He’d thought he’d been prepared for whatever his Retriever had wanted to do with him, but Jeff’s embrace had surprised him. Jeff had pressed his face against Jensen’s throat and sniffed, and oh, the scratch of his stubble, the heat of his breath. Jeff had let the rage and the drugs run through him while his iron fingers curled around Jensen’s wrists, squeezing until he felt the bones grind and groan. It had hurt, it should have scared him, but Jensen had thought only, yes.
The bruises were still there, perfect shackles on his wrist. He rubbed one deliberately, the ache and sting. The feeling of it had sunk deep in his stomach, settled into his flesh. It was the first brand his Retriever had given him. It made him feel owned, and that pleased him.
Something had changed between them. An ease that hadn’t been there before. Jensen had looked into the abyss that was his Retriever’s soul, and hadn’t flinched.
Jeff lifted the pane of glassine, sunlight on sweat gilding the lines of his muscles. They might not have gotten much sun in the city’s walls yet, but the ash had burned clear in other places. Jeff was a pleasure to watch, even with the healing pink wound across his stomach, the black stitches like insect legs. He wasn’t bulky like the newer Retrievers, just lean and strong. Jensen had seen how fast he could be when he wanted. If it had been any other Retriever... yes, Jensen would have feared.
He had not feared Weatherly. He had paid for that.
He liked Jeff. He liked the quiet artist that lived under Jeff’s skin, the dry sense of humor and the ready smile. He wished Jeff would let him do more for him--take more of the pain and madness. It would only take one uplink. One touch of their minds, and he could soothe.
Jeff turned, meeting his eyes with a questioning smile, and Jensen realized he had suited deeds to thought and reached for Jeff.
It was on his tongue to apologize for the familiarity, but then Jeff’s barriers slid open to him. Trusting.
The uplink had never been so tempting. Jensen slid in as though he belonged, like he imagined someone might slip into warm ocean waters (when there had been oceans). His mental touch ghosted through Jeff’s surface thoughts, feeling the currents of emotion, his relief at being allowed to move his body in physical labor. The rage lurked beneath Jeff’s superficial thoughts, and Jensen stroked him, settled him. Warmth rose in its place.
And then, Jeff was just there, touching him back; Jensen could almost taste him. It wrapped around him, quieting the call of the Uplink, stroking over him. Jensen started to jerk away, before Jeff could feel what was wrong inside him, but Jeff held him fast. Let Jensen feel his trust, and gratitude, and …. home.
Just like Retriever Prometheus, a traitorous voice murmured in the back of his thoughts.
He quieted it, not wanting Jeff to feel his betrayal. Never a good idea with a Retriever.
Jeff’s contentment settled into him, and Jensen felt his own lips curling into a smile. That quickly, he was back in his body-- the storm clouds of a headache behind his eyes, the lingering bruise at his wrists, the digging distraction of the corset’s boning into his ribs.
Jeff turned back to the wood, tilting his face away.
A few moments later, Jensen felt a deeper brush on his thoughts, and he opened for it.
“Want to help?”Jeff’s mental voice wasn’t much different from his actual voice, unlike a lot of people Jensen had met.
He shoved the thought of his last retriever back again, and nodded. “I’d love to,” he replied, unfolding from the chair that Jeff had parked him in while he used the laser torch. “Tell me what to do.”
Jeff lifted two timbers. “First, we need to set up the frame.”
They worked in concert until the light began to fade and the air began to cool. They succeeded in putting up the frame of the greenhouse, and attaching the first few panels.
Eventually, Jensen became aware of a low ache in his stomach, and a growing sense of cold. A shiver slid down his spine, and he abruptly realized that it wasn’t his sensation. His eyes turned to his Retriever. “I think we’ve done enough for today,” he said.
Jeff made a soft noise of dissent, and picked up another panel of glassine to affix. This time, without Jensen’s help, the pain twisted in his belly sharply.
Jensen deepened the link that neither of them had bothered to close. “Jeff. You’ll hurt yourself. Your stomach is still healing.”
Jeff ignored him with a little grunt, but Jensen felt his frustration and anger at his body’s limitations.
“Retriever.” Jensen moved closer, putting himself within easy reach of a blow. “Stop.” With a silent prayer to the Maiden, he reached out, his fingers brushing over Jeff’s wrist.
His Retriever growled deep in his throat, spinning to face him. In the dimming light, he saw what was sharpening Jeff’s temper. The scratches on his wrist had opened with the activity, and blood flowed down his arm freely.
He didn’t see Jeff move, but suddenly, there was a hand tangled in his hair. Jeff pulled, tilting Jensen’s head back.
‘sobeautifulwhydoeshehavedtobesobeautiful.’ Jeff’s thoughts slid into Jensen’s mind, along with a pulsebeat of need/want that spiked through his body.
A soft chime distracted him’ he watched Jeff blink at the odd feeling of having the Uplink brush his thoughts. Something slid up from Jeff’s mind, but he stifled it quickly, smothering it and hiding before Jensen could get a sense of it. Either way, Jeff let him go, releasing him with a suddenness that would have probably dropped Jensen on his ass if he wasn’t ready for it.
Jensen answered the chime with a tilt of his head. “Yes?”
“There is a package at the front desk for Retriever Bia.”
“Very well. Send it up.”
“It requires the Retriever to come down in person.”
“Will I be sufficient?”
There was a long hesitation. “Yes.”
“Fine. I will be there shortly.”
Jensen gave Jeff a slight smile. “I’ll be right back.”
“No.” Jeff shook his head sharply. “I’ve got it.” Without a word, he stalked to the stairway and headed down into the apartment.
By the time Jensen got moving, he heard the front door close behind his Retriever. Did Jeff think he was unable to fetch a package? Or was it some weird sexual thing that he didn’t want to share. Did Jeff not trust him?
Before he knew what he was doing, the front door was closing behind him, and he was following the faint pull from his connection to Jeff. A slash of rage slid through him, and he doubled his speed. What in the name of the Crone was going on?
The sight that met his eyes when he broke out of the hallway into the main entry way of the Retriever Citadel shouldn’t have startled him. Jeff, still half dressed, but with a stiletto in each
hand was facing off against three Betas, who had obviously been waiting.
The Citadel’s Concierge laid in a puddle of blood, a package sitting on his desk. Ah. They’d used the opportunity to get Jeff down here. Or him. The thought startled him. What would they have done if he’d come down? He glanced around the room nervously, and found a few other Betas watching the fight with interest. Four in all. He logged their positions, sent it to Jeff on a thin thread, and looked back down at his Retriever.
He’d seen Jeff move in the Introduction room, had seen the inherent violence in his Retriever. This was something entirely different.
In the introduction room, Bia had been calm, controlled. Cold.
This was white-hot rage.
Bia moved like one of the dancers he’d seen lithographs of in Old Earth paintings. But no ballerina had ever moved like this. Every step, every gesture was lethal. The blades whirled in a gleaming song, and every note was death.
The Betas rushed him, and Bia stepped back out of their center, letting them compensate or run into each other. Before the closest to him could recover, Bia’s blade sang, and the Beta crumpled, clutching at his newly pierced throat. A one in a million shot, even for a Retriever
The second Beta, a hulking muscled man who reminded Jensen of the pictures he’d seen of twentieth century professional wrestlers, turned towards Bia. Bia moved again, his foot connecting with the Beta’s ribcage, sending him stumbling back. The third Beta lifted his blade, trying to take advantage of Bia’s turned back. Instead, Bia dropped to his knee, letting the kick’s momentum turn him in a low spin.
The blade glanced off Bia’s temple, and blood streamed from the cut. A scalp wound, Jensen reminded himself. Bound to bleed a lot. Still he took a few steps closer--just in case he was needed.
The third Beta wasn’t as muscled as the second. He seemed to be somewhere in between the two styles of Retriever--neither Bia’s grace nor the second man’s bulk.
The second Beta was on his feet, his blade slashing wildly. He was angry, Jensen noted absently. That wouldn’t help him any in this fight.
The third was the real danger. The man was cold, each move sharp and precisely calculated.
A flash of white from across the room drew Jensen’s attention, and he stilled. A figure in a white hooded robe stood by the statue of the Furies, watching him, instead of the fight unfolding on the floor. Jensen stared back, unnerved by the figure’s silent presence, until Bia’s voice drew him back to the fight.
Bia had turned so that he could see both Betas, his teeth bared in an bloody smile. “Come on, boys,” he taunted. “Let’s finish this dance. I’m getting tired of the song.”
The second beta took the taunt, swinging at Bia’s head in a way that his Retriever couldn’t fail to duck.
Instead, Bia stood there, waiting until the last second. When it came, he moved, his blade slipping between the Beta’s ribs with deadly accuracy. Bia shoved the man off his blade and turned to face the last assailant.
The stilettos made lazy arcs in Bia’s hands. Jensen found himself shivering, wondering what other things those hands would do.
It happened so quickly that Jensen only registered a rush of movement on his left before one of the Retrievers who had been watching the fight was behind him. A burly arm slide around his throat. “I’ve got your Librarian, Bia,” called the Retriever.
To Jensen’s shock, Bia froze. His blades stopped for the first time since Jensen had come down. Across the room, the white robed figure had disappeared.
Jensen squirmed against the restraint, gasping in sips of air. “The penalty for harming another Retriever’s El is-”
“What’s the penalty for harming Prometheus’ whore?” the Retriever growled.
Jensen flinched.
“Traitor. Did you think we didn’t know that you helped him?” The Retriever behind him gave him a little shake, and Jensen felt his teeth clack together.
“I didn’t-- I wouldn’t.” Jensen’s voice choked off as the arm at his throat tightened.
He had survived the Uplink, survived a new Retriever, and this was how it would end? Jensen clawed at the Retriever’s arm, gasping for air. The world spun in front of him, and he saw Bia’s-- Jeff’s stricken face. They would force another El on him.
Jeff was an exceptional Alpha, he shouldn’t be forced into anything.
Maybe he would find the new El more appealing.
It was the thought of Jeff’s hands on another Librarian that spurred Jensen into motion. Librarians weren’t very strong--but they were durable. They had to be, to meet the passion of the Retriever and not break. And he had spent the last two months with Jeff, eating food that wasn’t protein bars, and, at least part of that time, deadlifting his unconscious Retriever.
Jensen kicked back his assailant in the shin. It probably didn’t hurt, but it was enough to startle him. Enough that the arm loosened. He squirmed, shoving up on the Retriever’s arm, until he could sink his teeth in.
The Retriever roared, shoving him forward.
If he tripped now, Jensen thought wildly, he was dead. If he tripped--
He tripped. He hit the floor.
Jensen closed his eyes, waiting for the death blow. At least in his fury, the Retriever would likely give him a swift death.
Above him, Jensen heard a wet noise, followed by two thumps.
There came hands on his shoulders, and he willed himself to fight. He wouldn’t let them kill him. He might die, but he wouldn’t leave Jeff willingly.
Someone gripped him by the arms, trying to lift him; Jensen scrabbled and clawed and hissed, lost in his panic and his no that it took him a few seconds to realize that the person who had him now wasn’t fighting back. They were murmuring to him, “Jen-- Calliope, shh, it’s all right now, they’re dead.”
Jeff. Horrified, Jensen stopped struggling and let Jeff gather him up. He barely heard Jeff growl at the gathered Retrievers, hustling Jensen back to their quarters. It wasn’t so quick that Jensen didn’t see the wreckage.
So much blood. The floor, the walls, all blood. His stomach rolled, and Jensen tried not to breathe the sweet copper scent, like wiring, like metal tables with restraints. The salty taste was foul in his mouth.
Jeff was still quietly assuring Jensen that the Retriever was dead. That they were all dead. Of course Jeff would find that comforting.
The doors to their quarters closed. Jensen wanted to sink down to the floor, but he didn’t want to get blood on the carpet. He didn’t want to have to scrub that out, and Jeff wouldn’t want strangers in his home to do it, and--
“Jensen?” Jeff said sharply. “Are you injured?”
Jensen blinked, coming back to himself. To Jeff, bloody and dirty and alive, and looking very worried.
“I’m undamaged,” he finally said. He took the final step closer and pulled his Retriever close, hearing Jeff’s startled grunt, the low thump of his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin.
His Retriever.
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Date: 2011-02-17 11:02 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2011-02-18 05:01 am (UTC)You wove a lethal combination of imagery here, Jensen's submission to Jeff, the manacle of bruises..., Jeff's sylvan grace against the other retrievers....Arghhh, wonderful read.
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Date: 2011-02-18 01:24 pm (UTC)\0/
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Date: 2011-02-19 12:13 pm (UTC)First, that there's more of this series. I adore it. You guys were the ones to turn me on to Jeff/Jensen and this 'verse specially has locked me in.
Second, what an intense chapter - we get more back story about Jensen, Jeff and Jensen have both taken a step forward in their relationship and ....
Last but not the least - that ending!!!! WOW.
This is soooo awesome - hoping to see more pretty soon. But even if takes a little while - so worth it!!
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Date: 2011-03-10 11:33 pm (UTC)I just love your writing, it captivates me and leaves me wanting more. I sincerely hope you keep writing this 'verse. :-)
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Date: 2011-03-12 04:22 pm (UTC)I love this, and your other stories, I'm so excited to see more of your work.
More?
*looks hopeful*
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Date: 2011-03-29 08:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-02 03:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-22 03:30 am (UTC)Something about how there might be less causualties among the Librarians if there were more care matching them up. The Retrievers respond so much to scent, in particular, and very much like an animal bonding to its mate, that if the Librarian doesn't "fit" them right, there would almost ~have to be some kind of violent response. Rejection, or an attempt to make them fit right. Jensen's backbone, which is right for both Bia and Jeff, might have been wrong for Weatherly and Prometheus (and you have to look at the Retriever and the man as two people, I'd think).
Sounds like Jensen's previous (and possibly only?) Retriever might have been involved in some kind of conspiracy, and Jensen's suspected of helping him?
I like that Jensen fought back, though it wasn't exactly in his nature. I like his analytical observation of the fight, sending info to help Jeff; and his appreciation of Jeff's fighting grace. I like that, at the end, the claiming was mutual-Jeff is ~his Retriever, actively, not just a passive submission to an assignment, if you see what I mean.