No Light

by Mara, Devi

  She giggled and wiggled closer to him, rolling onto her side to face him. He slid his hand down her back, fascinated by her smooth skin. It was several degrees warmer than his and perfectly soft. He moved down press a kiss to her hipbone, just above her pants.

  His eyes rose to her face, to see her watching him with a small smile. He traced the top of her jeans with his fingertips. Her eyes fluttered closed and she arched into him slightly. She bit her lip, but he still heard the soft moan. She gave him a faint nod.

  He slipped the buttons free and slid the heavy material down her legs. He dropped them, unsure where they landed. He slowly took in the picture she presented. Slim, perfectly formed legs, dainty ankles, and the single freckle on her right knee.

  He bent to kiss it, lightly rubbing his lips over her shin. She twitched, and he saw her toes curl from the corner of his eye. Suddenly, she shifted and he was looking up at her from his back, as she leaned over him.

  He lay perfectly still and let her gaze wander over him, not touching her even though his fingers itched with the urge to be on her. She raised her free hand and hesitantly reached toward him. He braced himself for her touch, but she paused and looked up at him. It took him a moment to realize she wanted permission.

  "Do what you will," he said roughly.

  Her hand touched his armored chest, and his muscles almost vibrated with the force it took him to hold still. Her eyes moved over him, unaware of his inner conflict. She tipped her head to the side in question.

  "How do I…"

  He gently gripped her wrist and pressed her palm to the dull spot on his right shoulder. Her eyes widened in awe, as his armor folded in on itself. He shoved it to the side and ignored the heavy thud on the floor. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, that slowly faded as she looked him over. She licked her lips.

  "Can I…"

  "Anything," he quickly answered. He let out a hiss of pleasure, as she lay her hand on his chest. The thin fabric carried the heat of her palm to the over-sensitive skin beneath.

  "Farran," she said softly. She leaned closer to him, resting her weight against his side, and pressed her lips to his jaw.

  He felt drunk on her. Every lungful of air was filled with her scent. His ator pulsed in time with the beating of her heart. Every bit of his focus was fastened on the places her body met his. She slipped a hand under the hem of his shirt and he sucked in a sharp breath.

  "Did I hurt you?" He watched her sweet face pinch in concern.

  He almost laughed. It was so far from pain. He shook his head. "No."

  She watched his face, as she pressed her scarred palm to the bare skin of his stomach. A low growl rumbled up from his chest before he could press it down. Shots of light flashed behind his tightly closed eyes. He could feel the buzz of the ator under her skin, as her lips trailed down his neck and her hand slid up to rest over his heart.

  He felt her breath on his ear a moment before she whispered, "Can I take this off?" Her lips brushed him, as she spoke and every muscle in his body snapped tight.

  He wanted nothing more than to pull her slight form on top of his. He gave her a jerky nod, and ripped the shirt over his head. He threw it, unsure where it landed, as he watched her stare at him in obvious fascination.

  Her eyes moved over his chest, caressing each muscle with her eyes. She looked up at him suddenly and her eyes widened.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

  "Look your fill," he answered huskily. He leaned back on his elbows.

  Her cheeks flushed, as she licked her lips. As her eyes trailed over him, his gaze stayed fixed on her face. Her pink, kiss-swollen lips curved into a soft smile. His eyes rose to hers, the emerald green gaze partly hidden beneath her hooded eyelids.

  A word rose in his mind. The only word that could possibly define the feeling that filled his chest, to the point it felt just short of painful. He could not look away from her, the single most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

  "I thought I had lost the ability to-" he broke off, as he realized he spoke aloud. He fell silent, and looked down at her pale, fragile hand on his chest. He trailed a finger along the soft skin, struggling to organize his thoughts. He felt her staring at him, her head cocked to the side in that cute way she only used when she was puzzled. He smiled slightly.

  "This tiny, human female entered The Corridor with a class of new handlers," he murmured, raising his hand to cup her cheek. "She made a dozen mistakes in as many minutes."

  Her lips parted, and he had to force himself not to kiss her. He swallowed hard and continued to speak.

  "She infuriated me on every level." She blinked, as he dragged his thumb along her lower lip.

  "She was everything I thought I hated," he said, a bit breathless from the soft kiss she placed on his thumb. His muscles tensed, but he forced himself to finish his thought, needing her to understand what he could not put into words. "She restored my faith in an entire species."

  …

  She stared into his dark gaze. Joy, and fear, and some unnamed emotion all swirled inside her, making her heart feel overfilled and almost painful. Her lips trembled, as she gave him a wide smile and pulled him toward her. Somehow, it seemed less confusing with the same feelings reflected back at her from his eyes.

  His large hands settled on her waist, real and solid, and holding her against his sturdy body. It seemed impossible for someone so large, to be so careful. His fingers lightly skimmed her hips and shoulder blades, as he removed her remaining clothing. She watched his eyes move over her slowly.

  A soft expression she had never seen before, filled his face with what almost looked like adoration. She mentally shook herself. Surely, she was imagining things. He ducked his head to place a chaste kiss to her sternum, murmuring something against her skin.

  She wanted to ask what the words meant, but he was on to her hip. The same brush of the lips and the same words. Her left ankle, her right hipbone, the same words whispered onto her body. She lazily rolled onto her front and felt the same attention to the back of her left knee, and the middle of her spine.

  Dozens of kisses, and every time with the same three words. She drifted into a pleasure-filled haze of soft touches and the melodic repetition of his language. He gently rolled her onto her back and sprinkled kisses over the bridge of her nose and over her cheeks, before he seized her lips with enough passion to take her breath away.

  She felt herself moan, more than she heard it. Her heart beat loud in her ears, fire racing down her spine and spilling into each one of her limbs. She opened her arms to Farran and felt him settle a small part of his weight onto her. It felt safe in a way she had never felt before, and she found herself unable to look away from his face.

  His eyes locked with hers. "Du s'uar mot," he said.

  She closed her eyes and felt the two of them melt together, until she was not sure where she ended and he began.

  "Farran," she sighed, clutching at his hands.

  She squeezed her eyes closed, and just felt the tingle in her skin and the warmth and pleasure everywhere they touched. His breath was hot on her ear, soft words spilling from his mouth to mix with her soft moans. The spicy sent of his skin entered her lungs with every gasped breath.

  For the first time, she felt the ator rushing under her skin. His foreign words of comfort spun in her mind with a rush of pleasure, the room and the world outside fading until there was only the two of them in a moment of stillness. Her nails dug into his arms as she clung to him, vaguely aware of his deep voice groaning her name.

  He tensed a moment later, a flow of foreign words tumbling out of his mouth along with the same three words, again. Her mind still dizzy and scattered, she heard him whisper her name several times, before she finally blinked her eyes open. She stared up at his sparkling eyes and yawned.

  He gave her a soft smile, still breathing harder than usual. His gaze drifted over her face, then quickly over her body. He nodded, seemingly to himself, and slowly lifted himself off of her comp
letely. She watched him scan her, again.

  "Are you well?" he asked, resting beside her on his side. He swept her hair back from her face with his fingertips, as he waited for her answer.

  Her body still tingled pleasantly. She nodded, feeling the urge to smile widely. He visibly relaxed at her answer. His arm dropped to her waist and he tugged her toward him until she lay facing him, mere inches between them. He stared at her with the same unnamed emotion.

  She wiggled closer, smiling when he let out a soft sigh. The insistent fire from earlier seemed to have faded to a low-burning warmth. She looked up at his face to see his obvious pleasure at her actions. His hand began to lightly rub up and down her spine, a steady, soothing rhythm that had her eyes trying to close. She hummed in the back of her throat.

  She felt his eyes watching her, as she drifted between being awake and falling asleep. Her hand rose to lay against his chest, just above his heart. She smiled at the warm weight of his hand covering hers. Suddenly, his hand paused on her back.

  She blinked open her eyes to look at him. A serious expression overtook the soft smile and she blinked at him.

  "Du s'uar mot, Sarah," he stated. The words seemed to carry a great weight. As soon as they left his mouth, an expression of relief flashed across his face.

  Sarah stared at him, taking in his tone and the way his hand pressed her palm against his heart. She opened her mouth to ask what the words meant, but he pulled her against him. She felt him inhale against her hair, shivering at his warm breath on her temple.

  He wrapped his arms around her tighter. A moment later, he shifted and pulled the discarded blankets from the foot of the bed to drape over the two of them. She sighed contentedly, smiling wider at his soft chuckle. His palm cradled the back of her head, pressing her cheek close to his chest.

  The steady thump of his heart filled her mind, as the warmth in their cocoon of blankets nudged her toward sleep. She yawned widely.

  "Sleep, Sarah," she heard him whisper against her hair.

  She sighed softly and let herself drift off.

  …

  At first, she was unsure what had woken her. She rubbed her cheek against a warm pillow and frowned slightly. She opened her eyes a crack, to see a tan chest at the end of her nose. She followed the bare skin up to an amused face. Farran watched her with a small smirk curving his lips.

  She blinked at him.

  "Pleasant dreams?" He raised one eyebrow, and she suddenly realized she was laying almost on top of him. Both arms, her head, and one leg sprawled across him. She felt her face heat.

  "Oh."

  His smile widened. He propped himself up on one elbow, and lightly touched her cheek with his free hand. "I have something to show you."

  "What?"

  He shook his head at her. "You will have to get dressed."

  "Will I like it," she asked, already moving to sit up. She watched his eyes move over her bare shoulder.

  "I am sure." His gaze moved to her face. "I will leave you to dress." He looked like he wanted to say more, but he shook his head and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  The blankets fell down to his waist and she could not look away from his bare back. She slowly licked her lips.

  "As much as I enjoy your appreciation, we can not indulge this morning." His quiet words, snapped her out of her staring.

  She looked up to see him smirking over his shoulder at her. She blushed, and looked away.

  "However," he continued, tugging his undershirt on over his head before he turned to face her. "I wish it were otherwise."

  She shivered at the heat in his eyes, as they swept her blanket-clad body. She waited until he turned away to grin at his words. She caught a quick glimpse of bare skin when he stood, before he was fully clad in the thin material. He snatched his armor off the floor and pressed it to his chest.

  In a reverse of what happened the night before, the metal flowed out of the small, dull gray patch to cover his body in impenetrable scales. He glanced down at himself and scanned the surrounding floor.

  "Foot of the bed."

  He sent her a small smile and retrieved his boots. When he straightened, his eyes fastened on her, again. His gaze wandered over her, visibly stuttering on every patch of bare skin. He jerked his eyes away and crossed the room to the shopping bags in the corner.

  She watched him scan and discard articles of clothing, until he held a small bundle of clothing. He smiled as he walked toward her.

  "Suitable?"

  She sorted out the pale jeans and a soft, snow white sweater. Her eyes rose to him.

  "Yes."

  He gave her a satisfied smile and turned toward the door. "I will await you in the hallway."

  She hummed in agreement and watched him leave. As soon at the door clicked shut, she struggled free of the blankets. Kicking them to the end of the bed, she glanced at the mirrored dresser to her right. She paused to stare at herself.

  Her hair was a nest of copper and red snarls. It trailed over her shoulders and back like a mass of confusion. She snorted in amusement. Her lips were still slightly redder than usual, and she turned her head to the side. Tiny pink marks formed a path from her jaw line to her right hip.

  She blushed a bright crimson at the memory of how the marks had been formed, and reached for her underwear. She quickly pulled on the thin material and hurried to cover it with her sweater and jeans. Her eyes drifted to toward the door and she felt her face grow hotter, even as a large part of her wanted to pull Farran back into the room.

  She bit her lip and shook her head at herself. Her hands combed through her hair, as she stared at the sheets. Images from the night before, flashed across her minds eye. Farran's hands, impossibly soft on her skin, as if she were oh so breakable. The tender look on his face when he held her. Mostly, the foreign words he spoke with such conviction.

  She frowned to herself. The tone of the words was clear, even if the language was not. She climbed off the bed, still puzzling over how she felt about it. Love. It should have been impossible. The Dems were supposed to hate humanity, but time and time again Farran had shown that to be untrue.

  But love, love was something altogether different. He could not love her, but somehow she was certain he did. Which left her with an important question. She drifted toward the door, a feeling of mild panic starting in her stomach. Her mind spun, processing all of the images and feelings she had felt from the moment she met him.

  Her hand closed on the doorknob and she slowly pulled the door open. He leaned on the wall across from the doorway. His eyes raised from the floor to fix on her. For a moment, the weight of her realization made it impossible to breath. Then, she smiled.

  "I'm ready."

  He held out his hand to her, and a spark of warmth filled her when their fingers intertwined. She ducked her head to hide her smile.

  "Come with me." He squeezed her hand lightly, and started down the hall at a sedate pace.

  She walked beside him, easily able to keep up. Her eyes drifted to his face, wandering over the short, dark blonde hair and strong jaw. His lips quirked, and she jerked her eyes away.

  "The feeling is mutual," he murmured under his breath, making her heart beat faster. His thumb stroked over the back of her hand.

  She started to reply, when they approached the door to the stairwell. The words faded from her mind, when she saw Private Eitad and Private Ambrac. They glanced at Farran, before their eyes moved to her. She thought saw them smile slightly. The expressions morphed into shock when they saw their joined hands.

  "G-general," Eitad stuttered in acknowledgement.

  Ambrac's eyes moved back and forth between Eitad and Farran, as he jerked open the door to the stairwell. Farran gave them both a curt nod and gestured for her to proceed him. The action made Eitad's eyes widen further. Sarah caught a glimpse of him leaning over to whisper to Ambrac, as the door fell closed.

  She started to ask about it, but thought better of it. As they descended the stair
s, Farran's hand was a light weight on her back. She tried to ignore how much she liked the contact. He did not move away until they entered the first floor hallway.

  She followed him toward two familiar Dems. They stood in the hall outside a room, clearly bickering. She heard a few sharply spoken words in their language, before they looked up and noticed their approach. The dark-haired Dem, Motlin, sent Tradis one last glare and stalked down the hall.

  "General," Tradis greeted, his voice still edged with lingering irritation.

  She glanced at Farran, to see his eyes sparkling in amusement.

  "Problems?"

  Tradis sent him a short glare. "Only with the newest burden in my existence."

  Sarah raised her eyebrows at Farran's bark of laughter. "I see." He dropped his eyes to her. "Your gift is inside the room."

  She glanced at Tradis when he huffed, but nodded at Farran's words. "Okay."

  She left the two of them in the hallway and pushed open the door to the hotel room. At first, she did not see anything out of place. The furnishings were similar to her room, even though the space was smaller. The bed was a full size instead of the king size mattress in her room.

  She scanned the room, turning her head to look at the chairs near the window. The air seemed to leave her lungs in a rush, as the morning sun highlighted a familiar figure. She would know that profile in near darkness. The few strands of copper interspersed with the dark brunet, glittered when he turned his head toward her.

  "Frankly, I'm sick of waiting around here like a -" his voice broke off when he spotted her. A smile tugged at his lips. "Sarah?"

  She nodded, too overwhelmed to speak past the lump in her throat. His face blurred with her happy tears.

  "Oh my god, Sarah! I've been bugging them to let me see you."

  She could only nod silently, as he leapt from his chair to hurry over to her. His hug was just short of painful, but perfect because he was alive. He was alive and talking, and moving, and gesturing animatedly about his activities for the past couple days.