sunshiner
06-03-2003, 06:19 PM
Blood Lust
by sunshiner
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Summary: He could handle a little physical pain. It's what hurt inside he had trouble with.
Rating: PG
Author Notes: Beta thanks to FBF.
Story Notes: Takes place Season 4 before Twice Shy.
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His knuckle wouldn't stop bleeding.
The wound was purple edged where the quadrate spanner had sliced through his skin. The surrounding flesh was too thin to hide the raw meat underneath.
A thick crimson drop fell to the floor, staining Moya's deck. Just another blemish to add to a score of others. Heaven knew these floors had seen plenty of blood.
Sucking on the wound, he heard his mother's voice in the back of his memory.
Do you know how many germs are in your mouth?
At least these were germs he knew, germs his body was familiar with. No telling what kind of bugs floated around, looking for something a little exotic to munch on. Even dear old mom would have to agree with the lesser of two evils.
John examined the wound again, watching as blood darkened the gash before spilling out. A thick crimson line traced down the back of his hand before gravity pulled it toward his palm.
Noranti probably had some sort of poultice or goop she could put on the cut to seal it up, but what John really wanted was a Band-Aid. Maybe a Batman or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Band-Aid. Like the ones he had as a kid when it was cool to be that hurt. Something he could show off to his friends.
Of all the things brought back from Earth, he'd have thought a first aid kit would have made it in there somewhere.
But no. He got all the impractical crap he thought he missed. Things that were supposed to offer him the comfort of home but only reminded him how far away he'd gone and how different he was now.
Home had become modifying the modifications Sputnik made to the module and pretending nothings else mattered. Pretending the love of his life wasn't more alien than the alien she was. Inhaling bug guts so the panic attacks didn't make him panic.
Normal things like that.
He'd shoot D'Argo in the leg for a Band-Aid.
John pulled his hand away from his mouth, examining the wound once more and watching as another bubble welled up from the gash. "Damn." "Here," said a voice from the far side of the maintenance bay. Aeryn approached, holding out her hand to take his. "Let me see."
He hid thoughts behind his eyes while trying to read something in hers, but she was unreadable to him now through no fault of her own. He wasn't exactly a billboard himself, anymore
Reluctantly, he extended his hand. She dropped her gaze to the wound, cold fingers touching his. "It's deep."
John shrugged because he didn't trust his tongue to cooperate. Not when the link between heart and mouth was so strong. When it wasn't his skin that ached from so deep a wound.
Aeryn looked up at him again, still camouflaging her thoughts like a Vegas card shark. "Does it hurt?"
He shook his head. John could handle a little physical pain. Preferred it, actually, to what he felt inside.
Slowly she raised his hand to her lips and covered the knuckle with her mouth.
A gasp clogged his throat but he fought it. The muscles in his arm tried to pull back, but he fought that too. A more difficult battle took place under his skin where he stubbornly kept the indifferent mask in place.
Her tongue ran over the wound, wet and warm, soft and rough. His body responded, a tightening along his groin, need struggling with a desire not to need.
His undamaged fingers curled against her chin, moving in a minute, gentle caress.
Aeryn closed her eyes while a soft noise rumbled in her throat. She moved closer into him.
John pulled away quick enough to startle them both. Aeryn's eyes flew open, dragging a hand against her mouth as regret broke through her gaze. Without a word, she turned and left the bay.
John watched her retreat, silently reminding himself not to chase her. When she was gone, he held up his injured hand.
No blood came from the gash.
A grin threatened the corners of his mouth. Guess he'd shoot D'Argo some other time.
Fin
by sunshiner
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Summary: He could handle a little physical pain. It's what hurt inside he had trouble with.
Rating: PG
Author Notes: Beta thanks to FBF.
Story Notes: Takes place Season 4 before Twice Shy.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His knuckle wouldn't stop bleeding.
The wound was purple edged where the quadrate spanner had sliced through his skin. The surrounding flesh was too thin to hide the raw meat underneath.
A thick crimson drop fell to the floor, staining Moya's deck. Just another blemish to add to a score of others. Heaven knew these floors had seen plenty of blood.
Sucking on the wound, he heard his mother's voice in the back of his memory.
Do you know how many germs are in your mouth?
At least these were germs he knew, germs his body was familiar with. No telling what kind of bugs floated around, looking for something a little exotic to munch on. Even dear old mom would have to agree with the lesser of two evils.
John examined the wound again, watching as blood darkened the gash before spilling out. A thick crimson line traced down the back of his hand before gravity pulled it toward his palm.
Noranti probably had some sort of poultice or goop she could put on the cut to seal it up, but what John really wanted was a Band-Aid. Maybe a Batman or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Band-Aid. Like the ones he had as a kid when it was cool to be that hurt. Something he could show off to his friends.
Of all the things brought back from Earth, he'd have thought a first aid kit would have made it in there somewhere.
But no. He got all the impractical crap he thought he missed. Things that were supposed to offer him the comfort of home but only reminded him how far away he'd gone and how different he was now.
Home had become modifying the modifications Sputnik made to the module and pretending nothings else mattered. Pretending the love of his life wasn't more alien than the alien she was. Inhaling bug guts so the panic attacks didn't make him panic.
Normal things like that.
He'd shoot D'Argo in the leg for a Band-Aid.
John pulled his hand away from his mouth, examining the wound once more and watching as another bubble welled up from the gash. "Damn." "Here," said a voice from the far side of the maintenance bay. Aeryn approached, holding out her hand to take his. "Let me see."
He hid thoughts behind his eyes while trying to read something in hers, but she was unreadable to him now through no fault of her own. He wasn't exactly a billboard himself, anymore
Reluctantly, he extended his hand. She dropped her gaze to the wound, cold fingers touching his. "It's deep."
John shrugged because he didn't trust his tongue to cooperate. Not when the link between heart and mouth was so strong. When it wasn't his skin that ached from so deep a wound.
Aeryn looked up at him again, still camouflaging her thoughts like a Vegas card shark. "Does it hurt?"
He shook his head. John could handle a little physical pain. Preferred it, actually, to what he felt inside.
Slowly she raised his hand to her lips and covered the knuckle with her mouth.
A gasp clogged his throat but he fought it. The muscles in his arm tried to pull back, but he fought that too. A more difficult battle took place under his skin where he stubbornly kept the indifferent mask in place.
Her tongue ran over the wound, wet and warm, soft and rough. His body responded, a tightening along his groin, need struggling with a desire not to need.
His undamaged fingers curled against her chin, moving in a minute, gentle caress.
Aeryn closed her eyes while a soft noise rumbled in her throat. She moved closer into him.
John pulled away quick enough to startle them both. Aeryn's eyes flew open, dragging a hand against her mouth as regret broke through her gaze. Without a word, she turned and left the bay.
John watched her retreat, silently reminding himself not to chase her. When she was gone, he held up his injured hand.
No blood came from the gash.
A grin threatened the corners of his mouth. Guess he'd shoot D'Argo some other time.
Fin