JL | FADM Red, Capt Dunross - BQ Commander, SEC 31 Director | "Let The Sky Fall"

Posted on 241708.04 @ 5:58pm by Fleet Admiral Blyx Red & Captain Aleksandr Dunross

Mission: Hush [BQ Plot]

The night had taken an interesting turn, Jorgun having exposed his cards for the table to see and now the rest resided in her deck. It was her choice. Capitulate or reneg. Explore or stay on the straight and narrow path back towards a sense of normalcy. What was normalcy? Was Alek truly that? Her mind spun as she finished those last few steps to her door and allowed herself in. Being desired wasn't something that Blyx was a stranger to. She'd known many suitors in her life, though those numbers had admittedly begun to dwindle when she attained flag status. It was as if her indomitable spirit, when coupled with rank, sent men running for the hills in sheer intimidation. As such, her prospects were grim up until the time that Hark's friendship blossomed and she found herself enjoying his companionship. And then there was Alek's return... Something she never thought would come about. Ever. But it had and with it came the attentions of the Orion sent by Starfleet to take over Cheydinhall so that she could concentrate on the entire Quadrant. He wanted to conquer more than just the sector... He wanted her. She'd have been lying if she said anything other than the fact he'd found it necessary to pursue her to this degree was something other than invigorating.

Stepping into her quarters, she immediately stepped out of her shoes, discarding the patent leather pumps as if they were yesterday's news. When compared to her usual footwear, they were as uncomfortable as they were darling to look at; extremely. Something was off... Something didn't quite mesh. There was a certain degree of electricity in the air that felt so foreign and yet so familiar. Like a storm... But they were light yeas away from the nearest planet and storms simply didn't happen on stations. Drifting into her living room, she'd have removed the pearls cast about her neck and studding her ears if it wasn't for the fact that her eyes picked out the one thing 'wrong' with her home.

Alek.

He sat on her sofa as if he owned it, watching her with practiced and nearly predatory eyes. Blyx couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at him and make way towards the kitchen in search of water, juice, tea... Anything liquid at this point. "Do you ever knock?" She asked, finding salvation in a replicated glass of apple juice. Her head was swimming with the effects of good wine and belly sated by decent food. These were things she rarely afforded herself, often lost in her work. Alek had long ago spoiled her, forcing her to take time for herself. For them. Food was one of those things he seemed to find pleasure in, and often it became almost ritualistic to eat and play, nourishing both mind and body. Mint chocolate chip ice cream had been one of those things, and finding it on his lips when she paused to savor his kisses was one of the added benefits to living such a lifestyle. Eyeing him, she couldn't help but wonder if that flavor still lingered from their encounter just a couple nights before.

“Only if I must,” Aleksandr said coolly.

He sipped on a tumbler of vodka and looked at her. He could smell her scent from where he sat and smiled in approval of her attire. However, he could not help the sharp steel spike of jealously that shot through him and he barely contained the growl deep inside his chest. Where had she been, and with whom, he wanted to ask—just to hear her say it. He knew where she was, but the fact that she was here now, made him hold back. She was not to be interrogated. He sat silently for a moment, looking at her looking at him. Memorizing every tit and tattle about her. The sight of her made him catch his breath and forced another swallow of the vodka down his throat. His nostrils flared in response and it took all his willpower to stay seated, and wait. The thrill of the other night was still fresh in his mind. Like quenching a long held thirst, was her embrace.

“Come here, let me get a look at you properly, lyubov moya”

If he was drunk, it wouldn't be the first time. Ice in his tumbler jingled together, catching her ear as she assessed the situation and his mood. Blyx hadn't survived so long by putting herself in unnecessarily precarious situations. Let him drink, she figured, because heaven knew that the man had his demons and more than enough reasons to numb his nerves with the slick, cool, burn of the vodka she could just barely smell on the edge of the air. She could feel the the pensive tension wafting off of him, the green monster rising to taint and cloud judgment. Her fingers fell from the backing of one of her earrings, temporarily leaving the bauble and it's mate clinging to the lobes of her ears. "It's a trick you should put into habit." She teased, her forward motion returning as she languidly crossed the patch of deck between them until she stood three or so paces away from him. "Anything in particular thing you like?" She asked, her hands up as she, in all of her confident bravado, slowly turned to model the elegant black dress for his appraisal. It must have eaten him alive to know she'd dined with the Orion.

Aleksandr watched her move, smiling at her boldness. That was his Blyx, he thought. Bold, bright, and dangerous as a she-wolf. Looking her up and down, he could see how the shape of her legs melded smoothly with the black satin dress that accentuated her gorgeous figure. He even smiled at the way her dangling earrings framed her face ever so nicely. Setting the tumbler aside, he capped his bottle of Vodka and was still in his right mind when he moved to her. Quickly, he slipped a hand around the small of her back and brought her close to him.

Inhaling her scent, Aleksandr smiled a wolfish sort of grin. "Yes, this," He said before drinking deeply of her lips. Keeping his eyes on her for a moment longer, he released her from his grip. "I should go."

"Should you?" Blyx asked, left breathless and dizzy by the combination of his boldness, the wine she'd had at dinner, and the remnants of vodka on his lips. It was a game. A cruel cruel game, and he played it so well. Aleksandr was so perfectly in control of everything and anything at all times. This was a ploy, a way of making it known that he was the one in charge of this new ritual, that Jorgun was (at least in his eyes) a trivial play thing that she'd tire of and put away. Or maybe she was thinking too far ahead, giving the big Russian entirely way too much credit. Either way, her fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt, "I hate to send you off when you've obviously been waiting for me, Sasha." She practically purred as she studied him. Two could play this game of lust and longing, love and need. She made the move to double down, unbuttoning his top button with a deft pluck of her fingers, "However," She began with a shrug and turned away to once more begin working on the back of an earring, "If it's past your bed time we can always do breakfast or something."

Game. Set. Match.

Aleksandr turned before he could reach the door and gave her a smile that actually showed a hint of itself in his eyes. Slowly, he moved back to her, his steps circling before coming back in. His fingers tugged on the zipper at the back of her dress and slipped inside, seeking to feel her flesh. It was just enough of an undress to allow his hand to travel down along her spine, gently caressing. Briefly the façade cracked a little as Aleksandr looked at her more tenderly and stroked her neck before leaning in to kiss that spot he knew so well, grazing it with his teeth.

"Blyx," He whispered, sighing, wanting to say more, but no words seemed to come. Pulling back, the stoic Russian reappeared, regaining control, though his hand stayed in place.

At that moment he didn't need to say it. It would have made things more complicated, more unreasonable than they already were. She could see him, the hint of that man some twenty odd years younger. The one that had light captured in his eyes and a smile that set her world on fire. He was there, she was sure of it. That practiced hand, those practiced lips. They were her undoing as her eyes fluttered shut and her breath caught her throat, her lips parting as he cradled her diminutive frame to him and tore at what little resolve she still had left. The skin along her arms and legs rose in goose flesh as a shiver ran the length of her spine, following his magnificent fingers.

He was losing himself, allowing himself to be seduced by his seduction of her and when he pulled away, tucking that young man back in a side pocket, Blyx was there to still him. Her no was the wordless way in which her fingers tangled in dark salt and pepper locks at the nape of his neck, curling her fingers against him, imploring him to linger for just awhile longer. Just long enough for her satisfaction, though she knew she'd willingly share coffee with him in the morning.

Moving, she could feel the looseness of her dress, the way the thick cap sleeve shroud was already beginning to slide along her heated skin. Gravity was a perfect aid as she chose to take that tiny gap of space between them to let it fall the rest of the way. The sigh of satin gave way to another shiver as its mistress' body was engulfed by the startlingly cool air that announced her freedom from its confines. There before him, she was bare as the day she was born, save for the cultured pearls and the way her hair had remained pinned in it's chignon. Was it surrender? Was it her capitulating to his demands? No. No white flag went up, no sign of her resigning from her stance... But a cease fire was called for the sake of memories and the way he'd given her just a taste of what the past had been and the future would be. "Alek," she countered, her voice a husky whisper as she stood on tip toe to kiss the hollow of his throat, the very patch of skin she'd managed to uncover. No. It didn't need to be said. It shouldn't be said. What they had now was raw and free of temperance. It was want and the way they managed to set one another's world on fire.

There was nothing left for him to do but do likewise. The tough exterior cracked and started to crumble away. Surrender? No, a Dunross never surrenders, but an armistice was sure. As he shed his remaining clothes, his eyes never left the Venus incarnate standing before him. He was tempted to go out and mark this place with an alter to the goddess in remembrance of this moment.

“Leave the pearls on,” he whispered.

His smile was a ruthless mixture of lust and love that only she could ignite in him. If he could use all his power he has accumulated in the last twenty-five years, he would use it to make this moment last forever. Here, no one could harm them, no one could intrude, no one could threaten them. There were no enemies save the ones in this room. The only friends existed within themselves. When he finally stood as vulnerable as she, he embraced the fire the pulled them together. Aleksandr stood before her naked and open, silently wishing for the burning fire of her kiss, yet nearly expecting a knife slipping between his ribs. Whatever it was to happen now, he’d come too far to turn back. He was committed.

Blyx's eyes only reopened at the sound of his voice as it mixed with the sound of his clothes being shed in favor of that new brand of... Lord... She didn't have a word for it. She didn't have any words, all she had was a nod. One she gave at his behest, the pearls remaining against her heated body as she reached to trace the line of his hip until the bone blended with the cut muscle of his taught lower belly. Time may have passed, aging them, bringing them closer to their final hour, but he was still what she remembered. An embodiment of strength. There were more scars, the likes of which she soothed over with the cool tips of her fingers, steady and sure as they had ever been. They continued, remembering and learning all at the same time, until her palms were flat against his chest and his heart beat steady against her right palm. Her lips, still painted sanguine, pulled into the briefest of little smiles as she felt it fluttering there. Yes. He was real. Yes. He was there. However hopeless they were, in that moment they had found that relenting to the tide of revolution wasn't near as bitter as she thought it would have been. Her head tilted slightly, the bright sapphire of her eyes narrowing slightly in thought as she allowed her fingers to fan out over him, claiming as much territory as she possibly could.

He'd accepted her as she was, not for what she had once been. He wordlessly stated that she was enough. She was anything and everything, and while she knew there had been others, likely numbering in the realm of many, she also knew that he'd chosen her above and beyond them all. There was no going back. Taking that final step forward, she rested her cheek against the center of his sternum, allowing her body to meld and contour to his in stark reminder of just how tiny she really was. Tiny, but sure and stalwart. Blyx's left palm left its roost, gliding down over the lines of his ribs and down over the small of his back until it rested at the dimples she'd knew she'd find just over his buttocks. It was there her fingers played, stroking his sensitive flesh in a rhythm so familiar.

Christ how she wanted this man... Needed this man... This ghost from her past, this dark angel that had come from the brimstone of her darkest and deepest circle of Hell to demand she look upon him... Accept him... Love him.

Her embrace was a shock to his system. The hard-armored shell that kept the universe at bay for the last twenty-five years simply shattered. The strangest thing occurred to him, he felt water leaking down his face. With each blink, he watched them and pitter-pat on her hair. He was too stunned to do anything about it and simple held onto Blyx for dear life.

He shuddered against her, enveloping her in his arms and for the life of her she couldn't quite comprehend what it was that had transpired... Until he drew another breath. It was ragged, slow, and purposeful. So much so that she could almost feel the emotion laying within the struggle to draw it.

Aleksandr Romyev Dunross was crying.

It was an act that she'd honestly never thought she'd see, let alone feel, and it tore at her. All the hatred. All the coldness. Every block of ice she'd thrown in his way at an attempt at keeping him at bay came shattering down in an an instant and she was left bare. This time it was an emotional rawness that forced her to act rather than think. There wasn't time for calculations or the game of tit and tat they were so used to playing. There was only time for first reactions, first thoughts, and hers came by way of holding him tighter to her, "Shhhh." She breathed the soothing tone. Blyx knew better than to tell him not to cry. She knew better than to lie to him and tell him that everything was going to be alright. Instead she did what she knew she must, she released him only long enough to bring her hands to his cheeks and her lips to his. Her eyes fluttered closed once more and in that instant she knew that his path to righteousness was weighed and measured by her and her alone and there he was... She was careful in the way she guided him to her couch, even more so when she slid into his lap and wrapped herself around him as a protective shroud. Blyx's lips pressed to his temple before they found their way to his ear, all the while her fingers combed their way through his hair. "I forgive you..." was all she whispered, her fingers leaving his mane only long enough to wipe away his tears as they continued to roll their way down his cheeks.

---

Fleet Admiral Blyx O Red
Commander, Beta Quadrant
Cold Station Theta

&

Captain Aleksandr Dunross
Director, Section 31
Cold Station Theta