( the blade in his shoulder twists unkindly, shredding firm muscle like tissue paper. another oh fuck squeezes from his convulsing throat, and he arches against a needling wave of white-hot pain, legs kicking and heels grinding into the carpet uselessly. stay in your fucking head, he thinks, rabidly. stay in the moment. you're drifting.
snap to a single thought, a lit buoy in choppy waters. focus. ortez is either headed for the next floor down, to level his rifle at the window and save his skin, or he's making a beeline for their mark's position, to save their op. he swallows around the acrid taste of metal in his mouth, and wonders, almost idly, if he'll dream about this, too, when the dust settles, when everything is said and done.
like reach, a once flourishing planet glassed to cold oblivion. like some innie motherfucker cutting him out of his rig with a power torch as he screams and writhes. like sam, and his cheshire smile, and the hot bulk of his body pinning him flush to a wall. his cock in his hand. his sword in his shoulder. one of these things is not like the other.
an invading horror, to be witnessed and forever internalized until it rots him inside. sam doesn't belong here, with the rest of felix's horrors.
get out. get out. motherfucker, get out.
he twitches. small, hairline tremors shiver through his limbs straight to his fingertips, now crushed under sam's foot. )
Not gonna fuck me, then, Sam? ( ragged but bitterly contemptuous, as if he's not a bloodied mess at sam's feet. he sucks in a slow, hiccuping breath through his teeth, and follows sam's gaze, to the floor above them. their mark. of course. still gunning for the fucking bounty. felix is many things but a graceful loser isn't one of them. ) Not gonna kill me?
no subject
snap to a single thought, a lit buoy in choppy waters. focus. ortez is either headed for the next floor down, to level his rifle at the window and save his skin, or he's making a beeline for their mark's position, to save their op. he swallows around the acrid taste of metal in his mouth, and wonders, almost idly, if he'll dream about this, too, when the dust settles, when everything is said and done.
like reach, a once flourishing planet glassed to cold oblivion. like some innie motherfucker cutting him out of his rig with a power torch as he screams and writhes. like sam, and his cheshire smile, and the hot bulk of his body pinning him flush to a wall. his cock in his hand. his sword in his shoulder. one of these things is not like the other.
an invading horror, to be witnessed and forever internalized until it rots him inside. sam doesn't belong here, with the rest of felix's horrors.
get out. get out. motherfucker, get out.
he twitches. small, hairline tremors shiver through his limbs straight to his fingertips, now crushed under sam's foot. )
Not gonna fuck me, then, Sam? ( ragged but bitterly contemptuous, as if he's not a bloodied mess at sam's feet. he sucks in a slow, hiccuping breath through his teeth, and follows sam's gaze, to the floor above them. their mark. of course. still gunning for the fucking bounty. felix is many things but a graceful loser isn't one of them. ) Not gonna kill me?