#pre-rc

A/N: For this thing's purposes, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that here, sex reassignment surgery is a hell of a lot better than it is these days. If surgeons can make people have medusa hair and manga eyes, then fully functioning male reproductive systems and the removal of physically female traits should be cake. So Domani, for all intents and purposes, is just as physically male as any cis males out there, and everything's just as sensitive as you'd want it to be. And yes, that was a few hours' worth of trans man research. Uh, some things did seem pretty interesting, though. I'll see if I can incorporate those into here. XD And I don't know if Dr Cable's dead by now, but it's been twenty-one years since the mind-rain here and I dunno, she could have died somehow. If people know about Tally's story then they'd know about the big villain of her story, so there would be news of her death if it happened. ...I don't even know what this thing is, guys. DURR HOW STRUCTURE WORK. Also, Diane apparently forgets how speeling and grammer work when she writes stuff like this. *** Discontinuity Summary: Sometimes it seems that all Dom and Deryck do together is fight and make love.WARNINGS: Foul language (but of course), transphobia, sexxins between seventeen-year-old boy and thirty-two-year-old man(...Is this even canon?!) *** Whatever that was, that wasn't sex. Maybe. Possibly. It was hard to tell. If Domani de Sousa had to describe it, it was more like a typhoon. That was it, a fucking typhoon. It was made of power struggles and anger and a few choice swear words yelled and whispered and gasped over and over again, and the only thing capable of quelling it was the right stimulation of the right body parts until everything faded into blackness. Neither of them ever did it coming whenever it happened, and damned if it didn't leave everyone and everything in the office a right fucking mess afterwards, not to mention the smell. But damned if it didn't also work out some of the kinks. Domani stretched in place before settling back into his lazy sprawl across his office floor, sticky with what he was sure was at least three different kinds of drying fluid, and careful not to wake the person passed out beside him. His interface ring flashed on and off in the stillness, the real world trying to barge back into his consciousness. He heaved a sigh and dragged himself up and towards the clothes he had strewn across the floor, albeit in broad, slumping motions. How did it happen this time? He could feel his eye squinting and the side of his mouth drawing upwards as he swiped at his discarded boxers, which were crumpled across the sofa. How did it ever happen? Well, obviously the kid did something stupid again. That was usually how these things went. What was it again, some other tryst that Domani would have to clear up yet again so he wouldn't get shunned by the fucking prudes he so desperately needed on his side? Some huge purchase that left him missing a load of credits again? Bit of both? Yeah, that sounded about right, both. Twat. He cleaned off some of the stickier parts of himself with the sanitiser, checking the kid's rank on his left eyescreen. Still holding steady for now, which would've been a relief if it weren't for his fucking mystical tendency to have a sort of incubation period for his face rank drops. Domani slipped on the boxers, adjusted the fit.  Not that he could blame him, really. If he was like that in bed with everyone, it was a wonder he ever did anything else. Domani grabbed the trousers he left in a crumpled heap on the floor. Each pants leg slipped on far too sensually for his taste, as though the act of putting the clothing back on had touched on some raw wounds, only the wounds felt good to the point of distraction instead of painful. He felt himself stirring again, readying for the next round, but forced himself to look at both his interface rings flashing to remind himself to stay focussed. He'd had his fun, and now it was time to get back to work. Now where the fuck was his blazer? He was yelling at the kid, he remembered. It was all the usual stuff about what the fuck was he thinking and oh right, you weren't thinking at all, were you, sunshine? No, silly brain-missing him, he shouldn't have asked, because evidently some people don't have enough blood to think with the correct parts of their anatomy. Did he have any idea how many other clients he'd have to push aside again so that he could deal with yet another one of his messes? Fuck's fucking sake.  The kid--one Deryck L. fucking Adler, hoverball superstar and overall sense-missing new-pretty--sniggered. Yes, it was all coming back to him now. That's what started it, the fucking snigger! Deryck fucking dared to show any emotion other than pants-shitting fear or reverent deference in the middle of a bollocking, and that was just. Not. On. Domani remembered turning and asking him if he just fucking laughed. Did he just fucking dare to laugh? "Nothing, just..." Deryck said. "I didn't think you could add more to 'fuck's sake'." Which Domani would've shrugged off, if that snigger didn't sound so much like something out of a wee littlie girl's mouth. After that he wasn't sure what happened, exactly, only that it caused them to eventually come to the point where they both started with the yelling at each other. And even then he wasn't sure what they both said, just that somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered yet again why it was a touch of brilliance to install the soundproofing system. Deryck could've been mewing like a cat, for all Domani cared. It wouldn't have made any more sense than the bollocks spewing out of his mouth. Some rubbish about his credits and his life and his choices, as if that fucking mattered, as if he could be trusted making any more. "And I'm telling you I have a whole family of crumblies to yell at me like this!" he'd said. He had towered over him, eyes all afire. But Domani wasn't going to let himself be made to feel small. "Now see here--" "No! No I will not 'see here'! Do I screw up sometimes? Yes. Do I make the wrong choices or spend more than I should? Yes! But THAT'S WHY I HIRED YOU!" Deryck's breath came out warm and humid on Domani's face. "I'm your boss, Suzie! It is not the other way around!" And that's what did it. Suzie. Short of de Sousa, obviously, but that was besides the point. Suzie. A girl's name. The name the rest of them called him behind his back, the name that contributed to his face rank more than he would've ever wanted to imagine. Of all people, Deryck was never someone he would've ever dreamed of using this name, especially not when Deryck knew for certain Domani was at least as biologically male as any other bloke. But here he was. Domani's voice came out soft, barely above a whisper. "What. Did you. Just call me." And damn him, the kid seemed to sense it. He had staggered back and his eyes had widened and he'd looked at Domani like he was Doctor fucking Cable back from the dead and out to wreak havoc upon the land. "I'm sorry," he said. "Dom, I'm sorry, I didn't realise--" "Oh, you realised perfectly well, sunshine," Domani said. "Find that you can't win an argument with your sense-missing fucking bubblehead skull so you reckon you can hit me where it hurt? 'Oh, Domani Gavriel de fucking Sousa is obviously my intellectual better in this row, better bring up the fact he was born a girl'? That what you thought?" "I was just--" "How dare you," he said. "How fucking dare you, of all people, use that name." Domani rounded on him, arms spread. "Well, it's all out in the open now, isn't it? Lay it on me, darling. Tell me all about how this has all been building up and how you're just like the rest of the missing fucking public." "Dom--" "No, not Dom," Domani said. "Suzie, I believe?"  Domani started at the sound. For a second his voice had risen so high he might as well have deserved the nickname. His hand flew to his throat, as if that could do anything to undo the shift in voice or the bile rising up and settling in his vocal chords like a punishment.  "Dom," Deryck said. "I prefer Dom. And I'm sorry. I lost my head, but I know that's no excuse. Please, let me make it up to you." "Yeah?" Domani said. "How?" There looked like a few moments when the little cogs in his brain turned to bring about some semblance of thought, but the twitch of movement in there died before Domani could be sure of its existence. "Yeah, thought as much," Domani said. "Look, I'm trying here!" Deryck said. "So stubborn." Domani could feel his flash tattoo throbbing as he smiled, all teeth and mania. "And don't you forget it."  It was his turn to have his eyes all afire now, his turn to have his breath be all hot and humid on Deryck's face. He hadn't realised it until just then, but he had him pinned to the wall, a hand on either side of that taut fucking athlete's body. A shiver went through him. The exact nature of the thrill may have been a little inappropriate, considering the situation, but if Deryck noticed, he didn't seem to mind. "Now you listen here, sunshine, and you listen good," he said. "Call me that again--make any slights on my fucking gender fucking again--and you'll find yourself alone in a city where you're a rank nightmare and no face kicker in town will want to work with you. Man or woman or whatever you see me as, I'm still one of the best fucking iciest feed consultants in the city, and if you cross me I will make sure no one so much as fantasises about you during a wank." The sense of triumph at finally getting someone back for using that name slowly became a little mixed with the realisation that Deryck didn't seem to resist the captivity. "I've always seen you as a man, Dom," Deryck said. "Actually, not even that, just--just Dom. You're the guy who keeps me in check and keeps me from going completely face-missing. You're the guy who's helped keep me from dying from being brain-missing. You're Dom. And you're probably more of a man than I'd ever be." Domani smiled despite himself, his tongue gliding along the inside edges of his teeth. "You smooth-talking fucking bastard." Deryck's shoulders slumped. "Oh, come on! You don't believe me?" "Why should I?" At which point they talked above each other to the extent that they weren't even sure what they were saying anymore. "--just typical of you, Dom, really! You're such a joy-missing--" "--fucking think that you could just make it all better with a--" "--didn't lie, this is just--" "--cannot be swayed that easily, oh no! Don't you think--" For the life of him, Domani couldn't remember exactly how Deryck managed to steal a kiss in the middle of a particularly loud bellow from each of them, but the kid had skills, he had to give him that. Domani broke away. "The fuck d'you think you're doing?" "Oh, come on, you've been wanting to do this all afternoon." Deryck kissed him again, those pillowy things disguised as lips pressing down on Domani's own and claiming his mouth, sealing the consummation with his tongue, one hand tangled in Domani's hair, the other cupping the base of his neck before wandering down. The same taut fucking athlete's body moved against him like a wave, finally seeming to sense its captivity and struggle to escape, and it took just the right shift in its hips for Domani to feel just what Deryck aimed to do once he found that release.  The shiver that ran through him didn't feel quite so inappropriate anymore. Deryck smiled beneath the kiss and his lips came away with the tiniest bit of suction.  "Bubblehead," he said, the wave in his body gradually concentrating more and more on a certain section of his lower half until Domani's trousers felt as though they might as well have been a vise. "You know I know better than most just how much of a man you are." It was all there in that cheeky little smile of his, that he knew the effect he was having on Domani. The evil fucking bastard. "Shut up," Domani said. "Shut up. You always ruin things by opening your missing fucking mouth." Deryck's hands tugged at the front of Domani's fly, his quick little fingers managing the button with an almost suspicious amount of ease. "Not always." It took an inhuman amount of strength to swat the hands away and bring Deryck back up from sinking onto his knees. Domani half-expected merits to register on his eyescreen. "No," Domani said. "You obviously still have issues with my identity." "What? I--" Domani kissed him hard against the wall, claiming those pillowy young lips like he was a pre-Rusty claiming a piece of land. He removed the trousers himself, and started on taking off Deryck's... whatever the fuck those plaid things were. "So let's get them sorted before we move any fucking further." *** The blazer slid back on like it missed him. Domani revelled in the feel of his suit, as though that tumble with the kid somehow made his skin fit better. He just about preened. Yes, that worked out the kinks quite well. He smoothed down the creases that had developed down the front of his front, the fabric of blazer and shirt and undershirt pressing down and showing off, to his neverending relief, the utter flatness of his chest, a chest still sensitive in various spots from the efforts of the kid's appreciative mouth. And were he a few years younger and still using his binder, he had a feeling Deryck would've worked on his breasts--chest, dammit, chest--and serviced them--it--with just the same gusto, just as he would've the-- He didn't want to think about-- Anyway, the point was that somehow the idea that Deryck would have appreciated all of him at any stage of his transition didn't seem that unreasonable. The kid just had that kind of vibe about him. But then considering this was Deryck, that may have spoken more of his insatiability than his level of tolerance and consideration. His trousers crinkled around his knees as he picked up Deryck's half of the clothing. The kid looked almost innocent in his sleep, a far cry from the scrunched-up expressions he'd made as Dom took him on his office table, the faces that could've easily been either pain or ecstasy. His closed eyes showed no sign of the half-lidded periods of lust or the fluttering points of orgasm. The almost silent breathing carried no hint of the moans and the obscenities scarcely an hour before. He was perfect, just an ordinary seventeen-year-old with a lithe and muscled body and lips to drive the most focussed of minds to distraction. Maybe it was this side he needed to show the public more often. Minus the sticky nudity and graphic sex with his feed consultant twice his age. Domani couldn't resist the barest of touches on the kid's shoulder, just a little excuse to let his eyes soak in this side of Deryck while he could. The temptation to get on top of him and snog him awake and start on round who-knew-what-anymore whispered in his ear like a promise, but he shook it off and straightened back up again, Deryck's clothes in his arms. The interface rings flashed in the stillness, and Domani heaved a sigh. Yes. Back on the clock, as it were. It was a shame to have to kick Deryck that hard in the side, especially when he had just requisitioned some icy new shoes, but sometimes it really was the only way to wake him up in a hurry. The kid--no, the hoverball fucking superstar--whimpered and curled into a ball.  "Shit!" Deryck said. "Dom, not bubbly!" Pathetic. Domani threw the clothes into Deryck's face. "Get up." Deryck did so, rubbing at his side and spitting the clothes out of his face. "Why is it always like this with you?" he said. "I'd appreciate at least a, 'That was wonderful, Deryck-la' or a 'Oh, sunshine, that really helped clean the pipes', you know. Because I know I brought you way beyond icy, Dom. Your face." Domani ignored the kid's crows in favour of slinking into his chair and setting his shoes onto his newly-tidied desk. "You've an appointment with the Ligers and your editor two hours from now. I'm heading over to that tart to make sure he doesn't say anything, but I'm coordinating with the Bombers as a contingency if this breaks. Your job right now is to get to your editor, help edit your stories, and clear out any shaming footage on your cams." The kid struggled with his fly (typical--no problem undoing them, but putting them on was another matter) and adjusted the fit at the back of his trouser things. "Yeah, yeah. You're welcome." Domani could feel his flash tattoo twitching. "Listen. Deryck," he said. "You can't go on like this. There will be some messes I won't be able to clear up for you. That old saying, that that the Interface is forever, it's there for a reason, yeah?" Deryck's head popped out the hole of his--was that even a shirt? "But these things are okay when it's with you?" "Funny thing about boosting and maintaining face ranks for a living," Domani said. "The thing you learn best is how to keep things discreet." He allowed Deryck the tiniest fraction of a smile. "Sanitiser's floating near the sofa. You'll want to not smell of sex when you're trying to keep your sex life off your mentions." Deryck's crash bracelets poked through as he finished putting on his jacket. The bot hovered over him, spraying the smells and some of the more incriminating fluids away from his face and clothes. "You do know how to take care of me, Dom." "That's my job, sunshine," Domani said. "Now get your shoes and get out." He rolled his eyes. "I love you too."  And then he sniggered. Fucking--what was it with him? Three seconds later, Deryck found himself knocked onto his rear on the other side of the door, which slid shut in his face. Domani just about fell back into his chair and sighed at the still unanswered pings. He turned to his wallscreen, cocked his head left then right, straightened up. Right. Back to work, then. *** (A/N: Uhhh, and there may be an X-Men: First Class reference in here. Because couldn't resist.)