[Milliways]

[2goodarms]

[From here.]

If he were back on the train, he'd go to his bunk, shove the curtain closed, and stay there for as long as possible until the swirl of emotions died down. After that first month, Curtis always figured it was better to isolate himself than risk lashing out at the rest of the tail.

Too bad he's not on the train anymore.

As Edgar heads back out to the stables -- giving Curtis space like most people did when he got angry, and fuck if that doesn't feel like winning his way through a tantrum, too, god -- and he and Dejah head up to the gym, Curtis gets to work wiggling open the jar of salve. He can't quite get the proper leverage with just one hand, even with the jar pressed between his stump and his side; gritting his teeth, he labors on with grim determination.

Comments

[2goodarms]

Curtis manages a grin, breathing hard. "What, you gonna help me up or just keep enjoying the view?"

Eyes on Dejah, his hand starts to creep toward his staff.

[dejah_thoris]

She offers him her hand, without hesitation.

All the while fully expecting him to attack when he has her distracted.

[2goodarms]

Yeah, she's not wrong.

Curtis closes his fingers on the staff, swings his arm up, and gives her a solid whack to the side of her leg.

[dejah_thoris]

She sees it coming and moves into it, but not in time. Yeah, that's gonna leave a mark. It caught her right on the old scar, makes it flare so bright, it whites out her vision for a moment. Her knee buckles and she crumples, trying not to land with her elbow in his groin.

She rolls off him and has the presence of mind to trap his staff against the ground with one leg, a dry breathless laugh on her lips.

"Fuck."

Now she's the one who's going to need a moment.

[2goodarms]

"You good?"

He rolls onto his side, propping himself on his elbow.

[dejah_thoris]

"Yeah. Yeah, just..."

Before the sentence is out, she's in motion, rising and knocking him back. Her movements are sharp and quick, and in a heartbeat, she's straddling his hips. She rests her staff across his chest, trying to catch her breath.

"Just need a sec," she exhales, a wry grin on her lips. He's not going anywhere until she lets him up this time.

[2goodarms]

Curtis lets out another tiny oof! of surprise as she tosses him back. He doesn't try to fight her off; he could use a short break, too.

But, y'know, as long as they're gonna be here for a second...

He worms his arm free, grabs her arm, and pulls her down into a kiss.

[dejah_thoris]

She's winded, her leg is sparking like a live wire, and she wasn't, she was not going to go there. Each and every one of these details evaporates as she meets his kiss and returns it with a breathless ferocity. She hums, exquisitely aware of his body beneath her, his touch against her lips. Her hand fists in the soft fabric of his undershirt.

She doesn't want to, but she keeps the staff between them. This is not the time nor the place to forget. After a long, intense moment, she pulls back, still breathing hard, but for an entirely different reason now. Her eyes remain closed and that same feral smile stalks her features.

"Playing with fire, are we?"

[2goodarms]

"Doesn't look like you mind too much," breathes Curtis. His hand traces up her arm in a slow, featherlight caress, then back down to her fingers; his own smile's taken on a faintly wicked edge.

Cradling her hand, he draws it close so he can kiss her palm.

[dejah_thoris]

She yields to his touch, and he can feel her hand tremble in his. The muscles in her jaw go slack, and then her expression crumples into a look of pure, overwhelming pleasure. She keeps her eyes closed, knowing that if she looks, she'll be lost.

"Please."

Whether that is please stop or please don't stop remains unclear.

[2goodarms]

He pauses, gauging her reaction -- fuck, he could watch her face do that all day -- but doesn't go any further once she speaks. Instead, Curtis twines his fingers with hers and rests their clasped hands on his chest. Both of them can feel his heart thudding, hard and fast.

They're not alone up here. She wants to go slow. That's enough reason to leave things as they are, for now.

[dejah_thoris]

Her own pulse is racing, every inch of her skin awake and alive now. He twines his fingers through hers and she sags a little. She opens her eyes and gives him a little smile of deep gratitude and profound affection.

She sits up a little, and with her other hand, she reaches up and brushes her fingertips over his lips, light as a butterfly's kiss. She swallows, and takes a deep breath, letting it go again.

"A few more rounds, then?"

[2goodarms]

His smile warms. "Sure."

Curtis squeezes her hand and slips his fingers free.

"At some point I gotta win a round, right?"

[dejah_thoris]

"At some point," she agrees, sitting back on her heels and rising, letting the staff float to one side. She stepped back, giving him room to stand.

"You're doing very well, if that's any consolation," she teases. Something about her entire demeanor is softer, now. The playful ferocity is still there, but it's tempered by something else.

[2goodarms]

He snorts a laugh. "Thanks."

Curtis heaves himself upright, grabbing his staff as he makes his way to standing.

Teasing, "Just wait 'til I've got two arms again."

[dejah_thoris]

There's a lightness about him. A shedding of armor, perhaps? Something that might be mistaken for real joy, if she squints and tilts her head.

Which she realizes she is, studying his face so intently.

"I honestly can't wait," she says, her voice sliding down somewhere she didn't intend it to.

[2goodarms]

Oh. That low note of promise hits right at the base of Curtis' spine; his heart speeds up again, and takes its sweet time sinking back down to normal.

He manages to cover -- kind of -- by giving the staff a few experimental swings, tucking it flush against his arm. "Ready?"

[dejah_thoris]

"Guard your left," she says, her gaze traveling down to his feet and back to his face. She circles towards his off side like a tiger stalking her prey.

There's two ways to handle this kind of heat in her mind, and the safest? Is to give him a good hard workout on the mat. Safer for her, at least.

[2goodarms]

With a quick spin, Curtis untucks the staff from his arm, holding it crosswise across his body.

This time, he doesn't wait for Dejah to strike first: he lunges in, turned to keep his left side away from Dejah, and meets her staff with his own.

[dejah_thoris]

Again, she demonstrates to him how to deflect the blow and sweep the staff offline to the target. She steps into and out of his range, her footwork almost dance-like. Her riposte aims for his right hip, tapping him there as light as a slap on the ass, and then she's out of reach.

She gives the staff an unnecessarily flashy spin around her hips, a wicked grin on her lips. This might be considered flirting on Barsoom.

[2goodarms]

Earthling or no, that's definitely flirting to Curtis. He flashes a swift grin in return, thumps the bottom of his staff on the ground, and moves.

The more he pushes himself out of that tiny box of space he wants to occupy, the easier it gets to go on the offense; to act, instead of merely react. He alternates between dodging hits and catching them on his staff, trying to mirror the way she tosses his blows aside with a quick flick of her weapon. He lets himself be less economical, claiming more and more of the mat for himself.

He's also, without quite realizing, no longer aiming hits toward that spot on her leg. Dejah's pain seemed totally disproportionate to the strength of the blow; Curtis knows old, tender injuries when he sees them.

[dejah_thoris]

She draws him out, her joy in the dance evident in the radiant grin on her face. He's so beautiful in motion, so riveting in his savagery. So alive.

She feels him not working her weak leg, and she starts presenting it as a shield. Subtly at first, and then like a bullfighter waving a red cape in front of the bull, taunting him with it.

A weakness can be its own strength. "Come on," she grits out through her teeth, pressing into his space, making him back up if he doesn't take that opening.

[2goodarms]

Fair is a luxury, she said. Curtis knows it's true.

(But if he attacks her like he doesn't care what happens, like he doesn't care about her -- )

He whirls the staff into a sharp, precisely contained arc, ending with a whack against her bad leg. Just enough to hurt, and just enough to drive her back; no more.

[dejah_thoris]

She hisses, laughs under her breath. Instead of falling this time, she drops into a controlled roll, coming up behind him and swinging for his head.

(Not thinking of the feel of his fingertips skating up her arm. Not thinking of the way his fingers feel woven in her hair. Not thinking of those lush lips or those ridiculous eyelashes.)

"Was beginning to think," she puffs, still exchanging blows with him, "you weren't paying. Attention."

[2goodarms]

Curtis plummets to the mat to avoid the hit, pops back up, ducks again to try and tangle his staff with her feet. Dejah's remark gets a quick, breathless chuff of laughter, but no further response.

As much as he's improved over the last few months, his endurance has a long way to go before it's at its peak. Curtis' reaction times are dragging a little slower, his couterattacks not landing with the same surety. This is fun, but it's hard fucking work.