VezziMani

Imagine surviving the pendulum wars even the world threatening locust wars. Your body is scarred from the wars and times changed. Sera continued moving, evolving into something that you no longer recognized. The past was gone but the lust of adrenaline still lingered in your blood; craving that familiar rush of digging your MK one lancer rifle or your chainsaw bayonet into the pale yet tough skin of locusts.

Your gloved hands hoisted up a bag of fertilizer, walking towards the small side villa. You placed the burlap bag on the white bench, stepping up those stone porch stairs and knocking on the wood door. Pushing open the door to see Marcus sitting in that worn down armchair; one person that stayed recognizable despite the gray blooming around his face.

You started to help him with planting more tomatoes in the garden. The familiar sight of your gear tags dangled from your tense neck as it was still stained with hardened blood and words almost illegible.

His nose scrunched up lightly, looking at you and seeing the familiar expression plastered on your face, the one that was on the previous COG soldiers that still didn’t know what to do with that sinking hole in their chests and minds after witnessing something that scarred them physically or mentally. He couldn’t let you go, not wanting to lose another friend.

He watched you for a moment before holding up his bottle, never one for words but offered you a drink. Your footsteps echoed throughout the villa, your tired eyes watched the amber liquid being poured into an old fashioned glass that had a couple of cracks in the glass.

You felt the cold breeze kiss your warm face, sipping the alcohol and grunting weakly to sit down on the bench next to Marcus.

“Do you have dreams about the wars?” You leaned forward, forearms resting on your thighs and holding the glass in. “I do…”

He grunted in response which softened the pieces of your hardened yet fracturing heart. Your eyes looked up at Marcus, looking at the light and how it contoured him.

“This world doesn’t want us anymore,” you noted with a scoff. “The minister…how long till there’s another war that she can’t contain?”

“Don’t think like that, [Name].” He took a sip from his glass. “The wars that we have been through won’t happen again.”

His eyes looked at you, seeing the scars covered on the skin that was revealed from your rolled up sleeves. He watched as the skin was still a thick layer on your right forearm, watching the layer revealing the movement of muscles around it; he knew where you had got it. The locust wars, remembering how you were spilling out the scars you’d both earned during the wars—you had been strategically isolated from your squad and fighting a locust and wrestling for the lancer till their jagged teeth dug into your forearm, shredding it in one bite.

“[Name],” he replied. “Let’s go inside and you can blow off some steam.”

You stood up, walking towards the backdoor where you saw Marcus holding a glass in his hand and the other holding open the door for you.

You both set your glasses on the windowsill, looking at Marcus. Your arms wrapped around him in a loose hug and your head rested on his shoulder. You pulled away from him and started walking towards the door but his hand gently pulled you back to him.

His hands undressed himself and you undressed yourself. Calloused fingers interwoven with his soft kisses that still had remnants of alcohol scattered across your face. Your lips kissed his face, kissing the wrinkles and scar on his face. His hands pulled away from yours, squeezing your thighs; feeling the muscles underneath skin.

He bent you over the windowsill, legs spread apart. Your hands clasped together, gasping a soft moan, feeling his calloused fingers with ridges that hit the spots in your soft insides of your hole. His hands squeezed your backside before nudging your knees apart as they had started to bend inward.

“Knees apart,” he stated.

Your breath fogged up the glass while he continued to push in his fingers, coating them with your fluids from your hole. Your legs ached due to the amount of times you had came as it had only been a couple of moments and your mind was already getting clouded.

His hand wrapped around waist, guiding you back to the armchair. He grunted when he sat down and offered his hand, pulling you to him. You felt when he inserted himself and your nails dug into his shoulder.

Your gasps left from your lips as you rode him up and down. His lips kissed up your throat, his hands pulled you closer as if trying to keep you close—chests touching and gasping into his kisses that he put on your lips.

You stopped riding him, exhausted from the days labor of helping him. His callous hand cradled the side of your head, your sweat dribbling onto his chest.

“Tomorrow?” He inquired.