Disclaimer: I wish
WARNING! WARNING! LIME AHEAD. I REPEAT: LIME AHEAD. CITRUS. IMPLIED SEX. ALL MITHRIL PERSONNEL OF AGES 16 OR YOUNGER SHOULD NOT PRECEED.
Disclaimer: I'm not smart enough to be in control of all of the military-based stuff. So… yeah.
Author's Note: I recently re-watched TSR, which always fills my head with fanfics. Please enjoy this blatant limeade fest. XD
PS. Thank you to Wikipedia for the convenient list of all of Sosuke's militaristic virtues. You make lazy writers like me smile.
The raw scream enveloped the dark apartment— heated and furious and oh, so breathtaking…
Her words burned his ears, echoing incessantly in his brain until he thought his head might explode. It was as if she were forcibly penetrating his every cell… And yet, despite the pain, he couldn't help remembering the last time he'd heard that agonizingly beautiful tone of voice: at 1800 hours— 15 minutes ago.
Call sign Urzu-7, and member of the Western Pacific Battle Group "Tuatha de Danaan's" SRT unit. ID number B-3128.
And 30 minutes before that.
Arm Slave Specialist.
And another 16 before that.
Also an authority in AS maintenance, improvised explosives, small arms, survival training, anti-armor combat, trap setting, and camouflage.
And another 14 before that, when she burst through his front door at 1700 hours, raging at him for God-knew-what now…
Known proficiency in the areas of logistics, demolitions, breach and forced entry, overt intrusion, and hand to hand combat.
"Sosuke—!" she hissed again, spent but insatiable, and all other thoughts were torn from his mind. No, there was nothing else in the entire world now but him and Kaname and this little room and her heavy breathing and his silent writhing and the groaned syllables that made up—
Both intensive training and personal experience as a guerrilla fighter and a mercenary soldier played a part in honing his many skills, making him exceedingly knowledgeable in the fields of tactics, abnormal military methods, and—above all—weaponry.
Perhaps that was why he could handle her.
Beneath him, the collapsible chair creaked, its icy corners biting into the soldier's back and shoulder blades. He couldn't believe how cold the metal had stayed, even though Kaname had pinned him in the seat what felt like years ago. She had trapped him well: her back flush against the adjacent card table, her legs strapped around his waist, her hands racing feverishly up and down his overheated body. Not to mention...
Maybe that was why he, Sosuke, thrived in the presence of this girl, this girl that no one else seemed capable of surviving. Why he could cope with all of her outbursts, mood swings, and violent tendencies. Why he—with his extensive military background—was the only one who wasn't frightened of her…
He wished—God, how he wished!—that he could pull her closer, hold her to him, touch every square inch of her satin skin.
Well, without good reason, anyway.
But no. He never even had a chance.
Without word, without warning, she had cuffed his hands to the damn chair the second she'd stormed in.
She didn't sound like a weapon.
"Chidori…?" he'd began, confused as he tugged at the bondage, brow puckering in disapproval. "What is the meaning of this? There is no reason to apprehend me; you should not use these tools as toys. T—"
But she was.
Then she sat down…
Oh Lord, she was.
As a Whispered, her brain was perhaps the most powerful, deadly, and terrifying weapon that Sosuke would ever come into contact with. And yet...
Good God, where did she think this up?!
It wasn't her mind that made her dangerous, in his eyes.
If this kept up much longer—no pun intended—, she'd kill him…
Every word he said, every gesture he made. Every glance of his eyes—everything he did or thought, she analyzed. She absorbed. She memorized. And she would immediately retaliate, whether positively or negatively.
Even he had his limits. And when— despite his best efforts— Sosuke heard a desperate whimper finally rip itself from his throat… he knew he'd reached them at last.
Smiles, glowers, backhands, insults, laughter, body slams, blushes, fan-slaps…
"…an hour?" Kaname's pleasured purr reverberated in his ear, hot and wet and almost enough to finish him on the spot. Despite his bindings, he felt himself buck and squirm against the heat above him, against him, all around him. "Hmph. The big scary soldier doesn't last long during torture, I see."
Privately, Sosuke wondered if he'd ever meet anyone else as emotionally reactive as Kaname. It didn't seem likely: governments made fewest of the most unstable, most powerful artillery. Reasonably, the same held true with gods.
He couldn't help it. "Ma'am," Sosuke ground through gritted teeth, pearls of sweat trickling from his temple and down his forcibly exposed chest, past ripped buttons and nail-wounds, hickies and bite marks, only to vanish beyond the loosened belt of his pants. "This is a most... unprecedented form of torture."
And Lord, Kaname was all of the above.
"Hm… Well. That's just what you get…" Her hand slipped downward, following the scarlet path of the bead. With a cry akin to a snarl, his head was thrown backwards, his spine involuntarily straightening; a metallic clang rang through the dank room, jarring the foldable chair. "…for being a bad boy."
Really, it was no wonder that the other male students had always been afraid of her. It took 17 years of military training for him to feel even marginally prepared to handle her. She who was so fiery, passionate, potent, ruthless, and quick…
"But I think you've learned your lesson now, haven't you?"
…not to mention explosive.
No, there was no getting around it. Sosuke knew that—in order to survive—he had to utilize every lesson he'd ever learned. He'd have to draw upon each mission he'd ever completed. He'd have to handle her with vigilance, precision, care.
He didn't waste a breath. Years of intense conditioning and stamina training came into play as—with a speed that even Sosuke didn't know he possessed— he reacquainted Kaname with the card table in a much more intimate manner. As if cued, radios, transmitters, half-finished reports and laptops rained to the floor in a symphony of heavy thuds and delicate shatters of glass.
For Kaname Chidori was like a landmine. And Sosuke knew that if he didn't tread carefully, she was certain to explode— taking him down with her in the process.
This time, they were both screaming.
…but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.