Warnings: Angst, lime, and to some extent an elusion to suicide. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: F.E.A.R. is the rightful property of Monolith and Warner Bros. Interactive
Alma had always been afraid; afraid of life, her father, the negative emotions of others... but most of all, she was afraid of herself... and the terrible things she'd done or had yet to do. Her entire life had been nothing but a living nightmare right from the start, where even sleep gave her no reprieve from the darkness that crept into her dreams. Until now, she'd given up all hope that anything, much less anyone would ever save her.
...When at last she had found that one shining hope... only to nearly destroy it.
She clung to Becket as she nuzzled against his laid up figure, tearful over the fact that she had almost killed him, in spite of her amatory intentions. This wasn't what she wanted, to see him suffer like this.
Alma wept silently atop him, her delicate features rubbing into the kevlar vest belonging to her paramour as she silently admonished herself. It gave her some degree of comfort that he had his arms around her; to anyone else, she would have been pushed away, feared for dear life by any sane human being to be this close to the raven-haired girl.
"I'm sorry..." she muttered, tears slipping away from the candescent pools of her crimson-gold eyes. Though in truth, she felt that any apology for her actions seemed unreasonable beyond reproach.
Becket was truly at a loss for words, his mind still reeling from the surreal experience of it all. Tangibility was truth, if the terrifyingly well-endowed yet exceptionally young girl straddling his unerect figure was any indication. The way that she had professed her love for him, both in words... and in the intimacy of her acts... it made him want to question just how much of his guilt had truly been absolved.
Then again, what... did he feel for her?
In all the years that he'd been alive, he could not recall any precious memories of their past.
And yet, he could feel this sense of longing for her - an unknown emptiness within his soul, wanting to be whole again, to be complete. He didn't have to understand it, but it was there, that feeling of loss, like someone you loved had been stripped away from you...
And those voices from before... somehow... they sounded so familiar...
Why couldn't he... remember...-
Alma shifted forward slightly, and much to the chagrin of Becket her dainty figure moved over an area of his anatomy not worth mentioning, her sumptuously shapely legs supporting either side of his waist...
The delta soldier glanced down into the splendid mane of raven hair as the girl's countenance came into view, sorrow crossing her beautiful features. There was something haunting about the little deity's eyes in the way she looked up at him; those golden orbs had this almost... dejected quality lingering within their depths.
Becket remained still, paralyzed by Alma and her staggering beauty.
"I love you..." she mewled, the vulnerability of her words resonating. A small teardrop landed on Becket's lips, frigid, freezing, like sadness confined from the deepest ocean was spilling out of her dark eyes.
Again, he was captivated by those three simple words, how his heart seemed to flutter each time it was spoken to him. He had barely known this girl for little more than an hour... and yet somehow, he knew.
-That the feelings they shared... were real.
Alma moved close to him, cradling her head into the crook of his shoulder as more frozen tears rained gently down on Becket's cheek, stringing down over his face.
"I'll always, love you..."
Closing his eyes, Becket was overcome with visions, his mind spiraling into a convolution of forgotten memories...
An old withered tree, bleached like bones, with a dilapidated swing swaying idly in the breeze...
A cloudless sky, as blue as his eyes, and a bright orange in the west..
Endless brown fields, stretching out from one horizon to the next, and not a single other from of life in sight...
Two children, sitting under the tree, holding hands like the couple they ought to be... One of them, a boy, tall and strong... his features sagged in desperation and sadness...
The other, a girl, as beautiful as her mother...long raven hair fluttering lightly in the wind... She had love in her youthful eyes, her face set in infantile longing...
"I love you..." she said, warm and soft, "No matter what happens, I'll always love you..."
Tears started rolling down the boy's face, as the girl reached out and cupped his face in her palm...
The name that had eluded Becket for so long... had finally come back to him...
"Alma..." he whispered.
And prepared to be plunged forever into darkness...
Cool soft lips nestled into his neck, the iciness nearly making the breath rush from his lungs as her raven hair slid like a curtain over his chiseled features. Alma's pale angelic countenance brushed softly against the Delta operatives own affectionately, a sudden blush coloring her cheeks as her full bosom tingled from pressing into him...
Becket shivered in hindsight, feeling his anxiety skyrocket as the young goddess' philias became apparent. She was compulsive over her desires, obsessive even. Her curves could easily surpass most women twice her age, and her ethereal beauty was enough to bring most men to their knees and worship her.
It was all for him... Only him.
God, he felt so ashamed....
Wintery breath fanned seductively over the soldier's neck, and slowly he felt his head being tipped back, as Alma's sweet, full lips became buried against his throat, suckling tenderly.
Becket shuddered in spite of himself, unable to reject the sensations crawling along his skin from Alma's touch. The way her lips smacked so sensuously between pauses, how she feathered her tiny fingers in his hair...
-It was... overpowering him.
A deep murmur of approval slipped from the little angel's mouth, and without a second thought... she pushed her body ardently into him...
Self-preservation, realization, and a major dose of hatred for himself flooded his senses, almost to the point of making him sick. Was he really so helpless, he wondered? Is this what the world was coming to, when a grown man like himself could no longer to tell the difference between right and wrong?
Luscious lips fastened hard against him with fervid attention, and the feel of her cold, soft tongue teasing his skin was more than enough to awaken his ill-gotten libido.
Becket's voice was all but gone, his hormones warring with his sense of propriety. He trembled with need as the girl made love to him, but, if memory served... the last time she'd done this, he nearly died.
"Please..." he begged her, staring up at the ceiling, "S-stop. We... we shouldn't d-do this... Ahhhh...."
Alma could feel that amazing pleasance coursing through her childish body once again, that pahoehoe of cold and warmth resurging inside of her like nothing before it. Her lips smacked as they parted seductively from his skin, a trembling breath whispering from her mouth as the girl leaned closer into Becket, her long bangs covering her eyes.
The air around her began to change, wisps of smoke the color of molten brimstone spread from the girl like a dark miasma, accenting her in some twisted deviation of an angelic saint as the processes of Alma's aura flowed from her hair.
"-Because," she said, her soft lips dragging across his cheek.
And when Alma spoke again, her voice became twofold, an underlying consonate of a strong-spirited woman merging together with her youthful tones.
"-I love you.-"
Becket watched, mortified, as the raven-haired beauty rose gracefully from his embrace, propping herself up on his muscular frame with her small hands on his chest, her shapely legs supporting the older man's waist...
'She... She looks...'
What was once an innocent child... had now taken on an older, startlingly attractive form, her comely triangular-shaped countenance and pulchritudinous feminine features seeming to deify the very essence of a small, sonsy seventeen-year-old girl.
Alma gazes down at him with soft cerise eyes, the haunting red glow a stark contrast to her ashen-white face. The girl's hair had grown to an even more impossible length; lavishly rich raven locks, falling like a great curtain over her shoulders and around her petite, nubile figure... giving her the perfect impression of a distinguished, patrician goddess from another era.
Becket tried to think of a word to best describe what he was seeing, but doubted that such a definition even existed.
She was beautiful... infinitely so.
"Don't you see...?"
Her voice carries like timeless innocence, with the sultry tones of an elder deity ringing true across her words. Dainty lips glimmer in the flame-orange interior of the APC, the lights making them appear even softer, more inviting.....
The little red dress, now a trifle few sizes small, seemed to conform to her every curve, the skirt of which now rode well up past her bare lower thighs. Becket couldn't help but be entranced by the raven-haired child above him, how she seemed to radiate with unholy light against the cherry-red of their surroundings.
Everything about her was so... angelic, so pure. It was impossible to think that she may have been capable of doing such sexy things to him.
She leans in... lush raven hair draping over her paramour's face, unruly bangs covering her eyes as her voice dips to even more seductive note. "...Don't you see...?"
...Becket's heart skips.
Frozen hands snake their way up the soldier's chest, seeking the warmth of his handsome face in her palms. She was ice, and he was heat, the two distinguishing forms of touch feeling so wonderful to one another. Alma shudders in anticipation, lacing her slim fingers around Becket's head as she lays atop him... her slender figure rubbing overtly against his chest.
Alma's lips brush delicately over the older man's features, moving sylphlike with just the right amount of pressure... tracing inward. She couldn't save herself from Becket, even if she had wanted to. His aura was filling her entire being with that incontrovertible vitality that she so desperately desired.
It set her afire...
"Michael..." she coos, her crimson eyes closing. Her senses become blurred with need - a small gasp leaves her paramour's mouth - Alma feels his lips tease against hers...
-And she kisses him once more.
Becket tensed underneath Alma's body, one part scared, the other overwhelmed with pleasure coursing through him, the girl's sultry lips pushing delightfully against his. It was just the same as before; the mere joining of her lips seemed to stoke the flames of desire deep within him...
Alma too is affected by this as well, their telesthetic connection stirring up the most wanton sensations inside of her. She wraps her arms around his neck, lasciviously kissing him with intense fervor. It was all she could do to keep herself from suffocating the poor man, her lips parting and taking him with almost little room for reprieve...
A slight shift in her position over Becket, and suddenly her aura doubled in response, the ghostly, foreign sensations of her womanhood being awakened causing Alma to whimper heatedly into her lover's mouth. She felt like her body was burning...
...and so, so sweet.
She'd never felt like this before... and Alma longed to feel more... craving it.
Panic overrode the older man's heart, as he became aware of the girl softly undulating her hips against him, his hardened physique trembling with fright. After his near-death experience, Becket wasn't exactly looking forward to a repeat of that scenario. But even so, he couldn't bring himself to stop her... his little goddess.
...Not when it felt... so damn good.
The raven-haired girl moaned into their kiss, her ashen white features blushing pink as a distinctly growing bulge, buried beneath layers of material, rubbed between her legs... Alma shuddered with ecstasy at the contact, and slowly turned her head to one side, slipping her tongue deep into Becket's mouth with gusto.
A sharp gasp signaled the Delta soldier's reaction, though Alma was quick to snuff out anything such as her tongue moved languidly upon his own, her soft lips smothering him to the point that only strangled moans managed to escape his lips. Becket could tell that his arousal was quickly eroding whatever defenses he may have had, and even though he wanted to berate himself for letting such an innocent, albeit extraordinarily beautiful girl take advantage of him, the bulk of his concupiscence rising to attention said otherwise...
Alma knew that her paramour was hesitating; his mind a jumbled mess of guilt, shame, and sexual gratification all vying for control... the latter of the three taking precedence above the other emotions.
So... she took the initiative.
Slender fingers drift downward over Becket's features, letting them trace over the hard lines in his neck, down over his chest... to the strong yet unwilling arms hanging limply at his sides. She marveled at how smooth and defined his biceps and forearms were, the muscles pulling taut as her palms glided over them like silk.
Her hands enclosed firmly around Michael's wrists, never breaking their kiss, a small trail of saliva banding between their mouths. Alma wanted this, wanted him, in every regard, and the shocking level of pleasurable feedback emanating like a fierce flame from her lover had the young girl drawing his gloved hands gradually up... forcing him to feel over her hips...
A twang of the soldier's foreboding arced through her, but she whispered words of comfort into Becket's mind, easing him.
"Please... I need this."
The raven-haired goddess drew his grasp higher, allowing him the benefit of following the contours of her slim waist... to the outer edges of her womanly curves, where she pulled their hands inward...
"Ahhh..." Alma's cerise eyes fluttered open, a tingling moan breaking past her full lips as she basked in the excitations of having her bust held in such a tender manner. Her countenance flushed to a deeper hue as she squeezed his palms deeper into the mounds of lovely flesh, clothed behind nothing more than a red dress...
She regarded him for several moments, child-like face in awe at how wonderful these sensations felt to her, before pouncing on his lips once again. The ghost girl's insides were turning to liquid warmth while grinding evermore passionately against his body, the stifling aura of her psychic bond perfusing her with an overwhelming flood of ice-hot lust, that deluge of ecstasy pouring over her petite figure... threatening to drown her utterly in its influence.
Becket was going out of his absolute fucking mind with temptation. The feel of her soft breasts pushing into his hands, as well as the apex between her sumptuous thighs rubbing zealously over his groin were enough to drive any man crazy. Had he been someone of less moral character, he would have already taken her a hundred times over...
But he was a man of duty, not some lecherous fiend with a Lolita complex. Still... he hesitated, unsure if he should proceed with this madness and give in to the black-haired beauties advances...
Or, quite simply, get real favorable with the 9x19mm sidearm at his holster and blow himself away.
Becket's thoughts scattered to pieces as he felt her tensing up in his lap, and the ethereal, icy sensations spreading over his lap began to register somewhere in the back of his troubled mind. Each gyration, each stroke of the girl's hips... he could feel that she was at the very brink....
Alma wailed in pleasure, the ice-lava flow intensifying, bathing her curvaceous figure in heat. The psychical feedback from Becket was sweeping over her...pressure beginning to build. It started slowly, like a burning candle... but the more she moved, the greater it improved. Her moans turned to lustful screams, her arms holding her paramour so tight that she was lifting him off the seat, crushing their lips together in the most ardent of ways.
Just as she hit the apogee of their union, Alma forced herself past the point of no return.
And finally got what she'd wanted...
Alma's resonant voice pitched to a high they'd never heard before, and no sooner had she moaned it set off a chain-reaction that sent vibes of raw pleasure through Becket like ocean waves crashing onto him. The feedback went directly to his straining manhood, and almost immediately thereafter he reached sweet release.
He too cried out, muffled by the raven-haired girl's lips clamped like a vice around his own as she shared in their state of bliss, the waves of rapture advancing and receding in slow, even pulses. Two pairs of eyes sprung open; surprised crimson meeting sky-blue, both partners shocked at the acute delectation elicited from their telesthetic bond before closing them once again, focusing only on the pleasure and how beautiful it felt.
Precious seconds went unhindered, the mutuality of their passion evident in each silent cry Alma made. The cascade of heat coring deep inside of her had plunged the girl into a semi-conscious state of euphoria, her sultry figure going limp atop the older man as she absorbed the essence that was flowing through them.
Becket could feel the fire in his loins burn untamed, and he shook with ecstasy as Alma's kiss all but shattered his soul. He tried to convince himself that this wasn't real... that he was still dreaming within a dream, waiting to be flung back into the real world...
Mentally, he'd be killing himself for giving in to such devious debauchery...
At the present, however, he couldn't bring himself to care...
Lips finally parted, the girl's labored breathing a sure sign of her pent-up culmination drawing to a close. Dark eyes fluttered open, burning cerise orbs full of adoration and slaked lust holding his stunned gaze to hers, a bead of saliva dripping from the corner of her mouth.
Alma's cold breath wafted delightfully over Becket's bruised lips, her unruly curtain of long raven hair falling over them like a midnight cloak as she held her paramour's face tenderly in her smooth pale hands. The aura of bloodfire and soot-black smoke dwarfing Alma in its radiance had become darker, more malevolent, the sinister vines of malice skittering around her figure with unprecedented intensity.
Even now, she craved for more... the child within still unsatisfied. With just the small offering bestowed upon her from Michael's essence, she felt stronger, incapable of being overcome by anyone or anything in space, time, and life itself.
-Like... a god.
Becket's frightened voice entreated her to do him no harm - not that such a thing would ever come to pass - and she marveled at how insecure the older man now appeared, pinned beneath her childish form.
It reminded her so much of that time back then; a simpler life that they once shared...
"Don't be afraid--" she murmured, her innocent face descending upon his own...
The cold embrace of Alma's full lips massaged against his without a moment's pause, her smooth, wet tongue pushing ardently between them to claim her paramour's mouth deeper than ever... pushing herself onto him...
Becket's eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head, the stimulation of the girl's advances a thousand-times more blissful than anything he'd ever felt before. Without fully realizing the consequence of his own actions, his gloved hands wind around the slender figure of the raven-haired Lolita, surrendering himself to her completely.
He felt nothing less for accepting such perversion, yet he didn't have the will to deny her, not after all the things she had done to him. The passion behind her motives were unadultered, shameless, as if he was her dearly beloved, soon to be lost to the passage of time. No one in the past two decades had ever made him feel so... so...
Soft breath hushes sensuously from Alma's lips, the budding petals of soft silk brushing carefully along her lover's mouth. A part of her - a very significant part of her - wanted to continue this tryst of theirs forever...
But for now, she would have to wait... and see to it that no one else came between her and Michael.
"Sleep now, my love..."
One last kiss, one last farewell... and suddenly this surreal world was drifting away from him, fading to ashes from a dying fire. Michael felt the pull of reality grasp him in its inescapable snare, the final words of his haunted princess echoing within his tormented mind.
Just before he slipped into unconsciousness, Becket vaguely wondered of only one thing:
...What in the hell had he gotten himself into now...?