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Title: Naked, We are Suddenly Strange ("The Future Waits Without Us," part 2/2)
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Amber/Luigi
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "You don't have to know anything. Just be. Do. Whatever."
Warnings: Spoilers for the end of the movie, sex and swearing.
"Do you think it would be believable if I fainted from grief?" she asked Luigi some hours later. She was a little bit drunker than she cared to admit, and he was warm under her fingertips. Sex in the bathroom felt like an eternity ago, and she wanted him - again, more, still; she wasn't sure. She wanted out.
"Prostrate from grief is a little Victorian," he said, "but that corset is probably pretty damned tight. So maybe."
She decided to take it under advisement for the time being. The head of GeneCo probably shouldn't faint in public anyway. Even from boredom, which struck her as much more likely.
Amber was actually rather closer to fainting than she cared to admit by the time she deemed it acceptable to make an exit. Out the door, down the hallway, into the elevator, and she staggered as the doors closed. Luigi glanced at her, then looked closer. "You look like shit," he said.
A horrified hand flew to her face, checking the edges.
"Not like that, for fuck's sake. You just look tired. Like you're going to fucking pass out."
"I might just," she admitted. The day had been nauseatingly long, and she still wasn't used to having to face the world without the benefit of a little glass vial.
"You're a fucking dainty Victorian lady, aren't you?" He stepped closer, bent down, and picked her up.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, clinging to his neck. "You're going to drop me!"
"I'm keeping you from falling over. Quit fucking wiggling, or I will drop you."
Giving up, she leaned against his chest. Doubtless he would say something in the next moment that would remind her of what an asshole he was, but until then, he was warm and solid and comfortable.
"Are you going to carry me all the way to my room?" she asked when the elevator stopped and he didn't put her down.
"Yep," he said. "Can't have you keeling over in the hallway or whatever."
Luigi carried her down the hall, his steps echoing on the hardwood floor, muffled in fits and starts by intervening rugs. Amber pried her hands from her brother's neck long enough to open her door for him. It was easy not to think about the symbolism of being carried across the threshold in such a way when he dropped her unceremoniously on the bed, exactly as he'd done when she was small and had fallen asleep in the car on the way home from somewhere. She blinked up at him, half-expecting a rough peck on the forehead and the demand that she go to sleep, brat, because he sure as fuck wasn't going to read her some retarded story. He bent over just as she lifted her head, and their lips met in juxtaposition.
It somehow became a kiss, and not their standard duel with tongue and teeth, but an almost tender exploration of the inside of her mouth. His hand came down and lay along the line of her jaw, smooth skin and gentle pressure. It make her ache in a way she couldn't quite explain, and a soft little noise escaped her before she realized it.
Later on she thought it was perhaps the noise that had done it, sealed the moment like a spell, creating what would follow in an inevitable cascade. He kissed the corner of her mouth, across her face and down her neck, lapping at the ring of scars over her collarbones. He struggled with the corset for a moment before she had pity on him and showed him the trick to unlatching the front.
It was startling, Luigi undressing her. Their sex was about heat and power, always on the edge of discovery and exposure, and there was rarely time or inclination for exposing more than the absolutely necessary bits. Even playing with her bared tits while he fucked her was risky. The buttons on her shirt slipped open under his hand, baring her stomach, and he kissed his way down, coaxing her up to push the shirt off her shoulders and dropping it to the floor. Her skirt followed in short order. She reached up, teasing at his ascot, and he leaned in close enough that she could pull it loose and then off, tangling her fingers in his buttonholes, exploring the scarred chest she'd seen so many times. He groaned at the soft touch, too deliberate to tickle, tracing across his scars.
He pulled back, away from her reaching hands, and knelt beside her bed. He caught her feet in one hand and used the other to remove her dainty high heels. They made scarcely a sound as they hit the plush carpet. His hand slid up the length of her leg, Amber whimpering as the contact went from stocking to bared flesh, and unhooked the garters. "Why are your clothes so fucking complicated?" he demanded with a growl, rolling the flimsy thing down her leg, pausing at her ankle. She reached for a snappy comeback, decided she was too distracted by his hands, and gave up.
"I'm just a complicated girl," she sighed, arching her foot. "Luigi, what are you doing?"
"I'm fucking you. I'd think you'd be able to recognize it by now."
"Usually there aren't so many intervening steps."
"Yeah, well, we usually have to worry about interruptions - and now there's nobody here to stop us or even fucking care."
"What about Pavi?"
"Pavi?" He snorted. "Pavi'd watch. He's not going to goddamned well stop us. 'My brother and sister should fuck,' for Christ's sake."
"Well, yes, but -"
"But what?"
"It just - I don't know."
"You don't have to know anything. Just be. Do. Whatever. Be the bitch in charge tomorrow, Amber. Today I had to bury my father, who thought I was a colossal failure, and did everything in his fucking power to prevent me from inheriting the thing I thought he was grooming me for, and I had to deal with the goddamned world staring at your tits and wondering if you had a brain in your head, and I just. Fucking. Want you. Okay?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
"Good."
His hands returned to her other stocking, gentle as before. His fingers on her thigh, and the soft little noise escaped her again, and he looked back up at her. The intensity in his eyes made her tremble.
This was suddenly not a game about power, his or hers; this was not just Amber's ability to lure anybody into her bed, even the one she shouldn't want to have. Luigi was staring at her like a man dying of thirst, or a junkie with a fix just out of reach. He loves you, flashed across her consciousness for an earth-shaking second. He's looking at you like that because he fucking loves you, and this is going to get insanely complicated if you don't stop him right now.
"Luigi -"
"Shut the fuck up, Amber," he said, and of course she must have misread the look in his eyes. She reached for his belt buckle.
He let her strip him of his pants and socks, and just stood there for a minute, watching her, as she looked him up and down, the patchwork puzzle of her memories solidifying into one complete shape for the first time.
"Now," she said, and lay back, spreading her bare legs for him.
"Now," he agreed, and he was pushing into her, and she whimpered, arching her hips to meet him. For once, they didn't have to worry about being quiet, and she discovered that Luigi was a moaner. He groaned into every thrust, every shift, his noises driving her even crazier, echoing in point and counterpoint, losing the porn-star polish of her normal bedroom behavior and driving her against him in desperate desire. He latched onto her hips and rolled, pulling her on top, letting her control the speed and depth of his strokes while he stroked her nipples, her stomach, teased her clit. There were words, suddenly, "Oh, God, Luigi," she whimpered, and he moaned her name in response, gasped it, chanted it like a benediction, swore with it, sacred to profane in the space of agonized syllables. "Yes, now," and she wasn't sure what she wanted now, but he was giving it to her anyway, somehow, exactly what she needed in the depths of her pleasure.
She screamed and he shuddered, and as she collapsed against him, she heard him say, "Mine," quite clearly.
She wanted to agree, or maybe argue, but she couldn't make her words work any more; couldn't do anything more than lay in his arms and breathe, and hope he didn't notice the tears sliding down her cheeks.
He fell asleep like that, still inside her. Eventually she slid to one side, watching him sleep, letting her mind drift over the long and complicated day. The soft knock on the door seemed inevitable, and she rose and pulled her robe on without coming completely out of her idle fantasies.
It was Pavi, of course; there was no one else in the world it could possibly be. He looked strained and tired even through her own face, and he was, amazingly, alone. "C-can I c-c-come in?" he asked, stumbling over the words. Too tired even to fake his ridiculous accent, to hide his stutter.
"I'd have thought you'd have a herd of sympathetic GENterns to fuss over you," she said, pitching her voice so it wouldn't carry.
"I sent th-them away."
She nodded, stepping aside to let him by. He closed the door behind him. He didn't say anything about the scattered clothing, or Luigi snoring, or anything at all, just followed her across the room, stepping out of his shoes and draping his suit jacket and vest across the back of a chair. Amber left her robe on the floor and slid between the sheets, scooting over to make room for him.
Still in most of his clothes, he started to get in next to her. "You're going to wrinkle the shit out of that if you sleep in it," she murmured. "Take it off."
He unbuttoned his shirt with nimble fingers, stepped out of his trousers, and climbed into bed. She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Night, Paviche."
He smiled and patted her cheek.
It was enough.
- fin
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Amber/Luigi
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "You don't have to know anything. Just be. Do. Whatever."
Warnings: Spoilers for the end of the movie, sex and swearing.
"Do you think it would be believable if I fainted from grief?" she asked Luigi some hours later. She was a little bit drunker than she cared to admit, and he was warm under her fingertips. Sex in the bathroom felt like an eternity ago, and she wanted him - again, more, still; she wasn't sure. She wanted out.
"Prostrate from grief is a little Victorian," he said, "but that corset is probably pretty damned tight. So maybe."
She decided to take it under advisement for the time being. The head of GeneCo probably shouldn't faint in public anyway. Even from boredom, which struck her as much more likely.
Amber was actually rather closer to fainting than she cared to admit by the time she deemed it acceptable to make an exit. Out the door, down the hallway, into the elevator, and she staggered as the doors closed. Luigi glanced at her, then looked closer. "You look like shit," he said.
A horrified hand flew to her face, checking the edges.
"Not like that, for fuck's sake. You just look tired. Like you're going to fucking pass out."
"I might just," she admitted. The day had been nauseatingly long, and she still wasn't used to having to face the world without the benefit of a little glass vial.
"You're a fucking dainty Victorian lady, aren't you?" He stepped closer, bent down, and picked her up.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, clinging to his neck. "You're going to drop me!"
"I'm keeping you from falling over. Quit fucking wiggling, or I will drop you."
Giving up, she leaned against his chest. Doubtless he would say something in the next moment that would remind her of what an asshole he was, but until then, he was warm and solid and comfortable.
"Are you going to carry me all the way to my room?" she asked when the elevator stopped and he didn't put her down.
"Yep," he said. "Can't have you keeling over in the hallway or whatever."
Luigi carried her down the hall, his steps echoing on the hardwood floor, muffled in fits and starts by intervening rugs. Amber pried her hands from her brother's neck long enough to open her door for him. It was easy not to think about the symbolism of being carried across the threshold in such a way when he dropped her unceremoniously on the bed, exactly as he'd done when she was small and had fallen asleep in the car on the way home from somewhere. She blinked up at him, half-expecting a rough peck on the forehead and the demand that she go to sleep, brat, because he sure as fuck wasn't going to read her some retarded story. He bent over just as she lifted her head, and their lips met in juxtaposition.
It somehow became a kiss, and not their standard duel with tongue and teeth, but an almost tender exploration of the inside of her mouth. His hand came down and lay along the line of her jaw, smooth skin and gentle pressure. It make her ache in a way she couldn't quite explain, and a soft little noise escaped her before she realized it.
Later on she thought it was perhaps the noise that had done it, sealed the moment like a spell, creating what would follow in an inevitable cascade. He kissed the corner of her mouth, across her face and down her neck, lapping at the ring of scars over her collarbones. He struggled with the corset for a moment before she had pity on him and showed him the trick to unlatching the front.
It was startling, Luigi undressing her. Their sex was about heat and power, always on the edge of discovery and exposure, and there was rarely time or inclination for exposing more than the absolutely necessary bits. Even playing with her bared tits while he fucked her was risky. The buttons on her shirt slipped open under his hand, baring her stomach, and he kissed his way down, coaxing her up to push the shirt off her shoulders and dropping it to the floor. Her skirt followed in short order. She reached up, teasing at his ascot, and he leaned in close enough that she could pull it loose and then off, tangling her fingers in his buttonholes, exploring the scarred chest she'd seen so many times. He groaned at the soft touch, too deliberate to tickle, tracing across his scars.
He pulled back, away from her reaching hands, and knelt beside her bed. He caught her feet in one hand and used the other to remove her dainty high heels. They made scarcely a sound as they hit the plush carpet. His hand slid up the length of her leg, Amber whimpering as the contact went from stocking to bared flesh, and unhooked the garters. "Why are your clothes so fucking complicated?" he demanded with a growl, rolling the flimsy thing down her leg, pausing at her ankle. She reached for a snappy comeback, decided she was too distracted by his hands, and gave up.
"I'm just a complicated girl," she sighed, arching her foot. "Luigi, what are you doing?"
"I'm fucking you. I'd think you'd be able to recognize it by now."
"Usually there aren't so many intervening steps."
"Yeah, well, we usually have to worry about interruptions - and now there's nobody here to stop us or even fucking care."
"What about Pavi?"
"Pavi?" He snorted. "Pavi'd watch. He's not going to goddamned well stop us. 'My brother and sister should fuck,' for Christ's sake."
"Well, yes, but -"
"But what?"
"It just - I don't know."
"You don't have to know anything. Just be. Do. Whatever. Be the bitch in charge tomorrow, Amber. Today I had to bury my father, who thought I was a colossal failure, and did everything in his fucking power to prevent me from inheriting the thing I thought he was grooming me for, and I had to deal with the goddamned world staring at your tits and wondering if you had a brain in your head, and I just. Fucking. Want you. Okay?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
"Good."
His hands returned to her other stocking, gentle as before. His fingers on her thigh, and the soft little noise escaped her again, and he looked back up at her. The intensity in his eyes made her tremble.
This was suddenly not a game about power, his or hers; this was not just Amber's ability to lure anybody into her bed, even the one she shouldn't want to have. Luigi was staring at her like a man dying of thirst, or a junkie with a fix just out of reach. He loves you, flashed across her consciousness for an earth-shaking second. He's looking at you like that because he fucking loves you, and this is going to get insanely complicated if you don't stop him right now.
"Luigi -"
"Shut the fuck up, Amber," he said, and of course she must have misread the look in his eyes. She reached for his belt buckle.
He let her strip him of his pants and socks, and just stood there for a minute, watching her, as she looked him up and down, the patchwork puzzle of her memories solidifying into one complete shape for the first time.
"Now," she said, and lay back, spreading her bare legs for him.
"Now," he agreed, and he was pushing into her, and she whimpered, arching her hips to meet him. For once, they didn't have to worry about being quiet, and she discovered that Luigi was a moaner. He groaned into every thrust, every shift, his noises driving her even crazier, echoing in point and counterpoint, losing the porn-star polish of her normal bedroom behavior and driving her against him in desperate desire. He latched onto her hips and rolled, pulling her on top, letting her control the speed and depth of his strokes while he stroked her nipples, her stomach, teased her clit. There were words, suddenly, "Oh, God, Luigi," she whimpered, and he moaned her name in response, gasped it, chanted it like a benediction, swore with it, sacred to profane in the space of agonized syllables. "Yes, now," and she wasn't sure what she wanted now, but he was giving it to her anyway, somehow, exactly what she needed in the depths of her pleasure.
She screamed and he shuddered, and as she collapsed against him, she heard him say, "Mine," quite clearly.
She wanted to agree, or maybe argue, but she couldn't make her words work any more; couldn't do anything more than lay in his arms and breathe, and hope he didn't notice the tears sliding down her cheeks.
He fell asleep like that, still inside her. Eventually she slid to one side, watching him sleep, letting her mind drift over the long and complicated day. The soft knock on the door seemed inevitable, and she rose and pulled her robe on without coming completely out of her idle fantasies.
It was Pavi, of course; there was no one else in the world it could possibly be. He looked strained and tired even through her own face, and he was, amazingly, alone. "C-can I c-c-come in?" he asked, stumbling over the words. Too tired even to fake his ridiculous accent, to hide his stutter.
"I'd have thought you'd have a herd of sympathetic GENterns to fuss over you," she said, pitching her voice so it wouldn't carry.
"I sent th-them away."
She nodded, stepping aside to let him by. He closed the door behind him. He didn't say anything about the scattered clothing, or Luigi snoring, or anything at all, just followed her across the room, stepping out of his shoes and draping his suit jacket and vest across the back of a chair. Amber left her robe on the floor and slid between the sheets, scooting over to make room for him.
Still in most of his clothes, he started to get in next to her. "You're going to wrinkle the shit out of that if you sleep in it," she murmured. "Take it off."
He unbuttoned his shirt with nimble fingers, stepped out of his trousers, and climbed into bed. She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Night, Paviche."
He smiled and patted her cheek.
It was enough.
- fin
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 05:56 am (UTC)From:The image of the three of them curled up in bed together is really striking and lovely.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 06:15 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 07:18 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 07:37 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 08:40 am (UTC)From:Really, really good.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-14 01:52 am (UTC)From:"Luigi -"
"Shut the fuck up, Amber," he said, and of course she must have misread the look in his eyes. She reached for his belt buckle.
*goes all flaily* UHN!
You make them all so hurt and hot and beautiful, and I love that you ended it with the three of them curled up in bed together
even though I eventually wanted to do that in one of my stories too and now I'm all mad 'cus I'm sure it won't come across as sweet and perfect as yours.no subject
Date: 2009-03-04 04:00 am (UTC)From:I like your portrayal of the Largos, in their confused grief. Like they're not used to having to even think about such emotions, let alone confront them. Amber is likable in your fic, which is interesting, since I generally don't like her. Luigi is spot-on, even in writing him as gentler. And Pavi is a darling, always.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-04 04:52 am (UTC)From: