Work Text:
“It doesn't take long,” he says. “Its not difficult, ether. It's like peeling a fruit.”
The analogy does nothing to help calm Sams nerves. Hes pulling off Raidens skin. Its straightforward, blunt. Its- its strange. The skin covering Raiden's body is fake, inorganic. Yet when touched it gives in slightly. Its soft, its warm like real blood rushes underneath its surface. Its intricate in detail, its pale, and if he looks closely he can see veins. Raiden doesn't have veins. No, they fade under the barrier of flesh as if they were a mirage, like water color faintly bleeding on paper. Its excellent craftsmanship, creating flesh so realistically that you almost forget its fake, that you almost forget that underneath its faux lively veil lies crude machinery and cold wires rather than red flesh and blood.
Raidens on his back, knees bent and legs spread to accommodate Sam in between them. Its far from how Sam imagined this would go. Figured if anything they would relocate to the bathroom, or perhaps a medical room, where the lights are brighter. An environment with less tension, Sam phrases it. Raiden would do a majority of the work, take off the patches he could reach with ease, his front areas, his chest, his legs… would only ask for assistance when it came to his back, parts he couldn't get his hands under. Sam would do it quickly and probably a bit more forceful than necessary, more hellbent on getting it over with than actually make sure the skin didnt rip. He’d probably get scolded, maybe swatted at. Maybe on the odd probability receive a small thanks. And then thats it. Raiden would have his skin off and they'd both go back to their own evenings. Simple. Unorthodox ideals, situations, but simple and finished with.
Nope. Instead, they're in Raidens room, on his bed. The thick, clouded skies of overcast make the room darker than what it should be for early evening. Everything is now hued with grey, dark blues, off colored whites. It really seems counterintuitive, doing this in a dark room. But Raiden had insisted. “Its more comfortable.” Too comfortable. Raidens naked, as he needs to be. But the way he spreads his legs so leisurely, the way his body is lax against the thin sheets beneath him, the way his head slightly relaxes to the side, his neck displaying in a way that almost seems… tempting, beckoning. The way his eyes go half mast, feigning tenderness. But Sam can see his eyes, how they remain sharp, focused, like the masterful killer he is. His hair lays out behind him on the pillow, its silvery blonde shimmers, its an image that radiates angelicness. Sam will never deny that Raiden is wonderfully attractive. The sight makes his blood give a single, hard pulse.
“Look,” Raiden says, quietly, near a whisper. Sam snaps his attention to Raiden's hand, as it now ventures to the seam on his face. It feels his jaw, its pads skimming lightly to the prominent seam that separates the organic skin on the top of his face from the bottom. Slowly, his finger crooks. The tip of it divots into the corner of his lip, and with practiced precision, Raiden pulls in the opposite direction. The patch of skin that covers his lower jaw and neck comes off so smoothly its almost startling. Skins there one second and the next its off. Raiden bunches the patch lightly in his fist and sits it aside on a towel he has laid next to him on the bed earlier. Sams nerves prick once more at the sight of a pile of flesh on the towel. He cant tell if the sweat is from nervousness or something else hes equally as confused about. “See? Easy. The hardest part is getting your hands underneath.”
Sam inhales deeply. He places the palm of his organic hand on one of Raidens knees, stables himself for just a moment. He hesitates, tucks a long strand of hair behind his ear, and reaches forward towards Raidens collarbones. Its easier to see the seams now that Raiden has already taken off a patch, theres a crude barrier of where metal ends and flesh begins. Sams index finds the small hollow between the meeting of Raidens collarbones, his finger dipping above and under it. The skin from underneath has a different texture, its a bit rougher, its similar to a thin, wire like threading. He searches Raidens face for any discomfort or pain as he gives a small tug forward on the skin. Theres nothing. Raiden watches him as if he has nothing better to do, as if he's bored, impatient for something greater.
Slowly the skin peels away, it does so as smoothly as Raiden has shown earlier. Its the largest patch besides Raidens back, so Sam has to roll some of it onto his forearm to hold as he continues to peel it downwards. He swallows a thick knot that lodged itself in his throat. This is unbelievably bizarre. The skin bunched in his arms is still warm, still soft. The skin of Sams knuckles scrape gently across the metal of Raidens inner frame as he continues to pull. Its cold on its surface, warm if he presses a bit firmer. The firm, wiring thread of Raidens abs slide against his fingers, they're as prominent as they look, they're perfect, swells of artificial muscle. And suddenly its all off. Its done. Sams quick to toss it on the towel, trying his hardest to not make it seem like he's too disturbed.
His own skin feels hot, it feels like its pricking, staticky.
Sams eyes traverse the rest of the skin still set on Raiden's body. He avoids looking any lower than his navel. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. Raiden lifts his right arm, takes his left hand to start at the crook on the inside of his elbow. Sam notices as it comes off that the sleeve turns inside out, the under side has greyish black dots scattered about. Censors, Sam concludes. Once that piece is discarded, Raiden holds out his hand. Sam pauses for a moment, brows knitted in confusion, and as he's about to take his hand in his own Raiden speaks.
“Its hard to take off this part with only one hand,” he murmurs. His voice sounds dazed.
Sam nods. He takes Raidens still skinned right hand into his left, puts his artificial metal hand on top of Raidens. Despite the flesh having wonderful design, he notes that it isn't entirely realistic. Raiden's hands are so soft that they make the pads of Sams fingers tingle. Hes a warrior, a swordsman, logically his hands should be worn like his own; calloused, rough on the pads, prominent in the veins running on top of the hand. But they're not. Inorganicness, machine, they could all replicate natural flesh, natural being, as perfectly as if they created it themselves. However it lacks that one ability, that one necessity that every organic way of life must succumb to, bow to, its law inevitable;
The will to change.
Even if its as simple as the skin on his hands changing their texture, their padding, to fit perfectly to the handle of his sword. Even if its something far more complex than flesh binding for survival. Raiden no longer has that. His skin wont change for anything, his flesh remains a imitation, and the metal and wires underneath will just be replaced if broken. His frame, his form is certain. It will not change. Sam wonders distantly if this is the cause of Raidens grief. Or perhaps some of it. Surely this no different than being confined to a cage, bound behind metal. Trapped, unable to break free, or at the very least able to alter. That sleek, black and grey steel is now his bones, his muscles imitation fiber, his veins wires, his nails acrylic, his blood is thick and white, filled with energy that thrums like static. His lower teeth are porcelain. His skin is the closest thing near great imitation. His skin, the closest thing to being recognizable as human, that he allows Sam to take off under his own hands.
Why him?
Sam feels Raiden skim his thumb over his wrist. Its gentle, cautious, as he feels the tendons there, the slight raise of veins. It feels overwhelmingly intimate. Yet Sam cant help but feel as though hes reassured, as if Raiden knows how to soothe every bad memory in the back of his head. Like he knows every horrible decision Sams ever made, every haunting memory that has transformed him into the man he is now. He cant change from that, ether. The past is set in stone, much like how Raiden now resides in his permanent body. But despite the past being incapable of change, despite its effect on the person he is now, he can still change his future, his fate, no matter how set it is. Fate be damned, he will change its path to his own will. A special someone has made him believe in that. And from the look that special someone gives him now, his eyes distant yet focused, a flicker behind his storm blue irises, embedded deep within his core, he can tell he must think the same.
Both damaged, both incapable of the distressed change they had to endure. Yet within the lain permanency grows that irrepressible desire to change anyway, to grow into something greater.
They aren't so different after all, are they?
With an irritating burn to the edge of his ears Sam realizes that hes been holding Raidens hand the entire time he was lost in thought. Well, shit. How long had that been going on? Seconds? Minutes?! He swallows thickly as he snaps out of it, tries to focus on getting his finger to slip underneath the edge of Raidens wrist. Its clumsy at first, he picks at the skin a couple of times before the pad of his metal finger wedges itself underneath. The palm and top are quick to come off, and Raiden helps with a small pull back as Sam slips the skin off his fingers. The hands weren't too bad. Easily the least off-putting, it felt more like a warm soft leather glove being taken off more than anything.
Raiden repeats what he had done earlier, helps himself to take off the sleeve of skin that starts inside his forearm and slides it off, gestures his other hand to follow the same pattern. Sam doesn't nearly have as much trouble with this hand as he did with the other until the flesh gets caught on one of Raidens claws. Another small tug forward, its still hooked. Sam cant help the small smile that forms on his lips nor the huff of amusement that escapes him. From the corner of his line of sight he can see Raiden give a slight smile of his own. Its harder to tell with the lower lips being gone, but the small lift upwards of the corner of his top lips, the way his top teeth barely show, its definitely a smile. Sam has never seen such a perfect light such as Raidens smile, a breathtaking strike of lightning.
After a moment of Sam intricately picking off the skin stuck on Raidens nail, it comes off. Thats done, whats next… Oh. Sam can feel his heart beat harder, faster as the bridge he was too timid to cross finally dawns upon him. He doesn't want to look down, not because he doesn't want to, no, he definitely wants to, but because he doesn't want to seem like some sort of pervert. Raiden could easily see his glance as an action that says ‘Hey, I was only helping you take your skin off just to see your dick.’ That could ruin a lot of things, whether it be Sams well being or their relationship. Not that the relationship is anything, they're just fighting partners.
Just fighting partners. Yeah, thats all it is, thats all it ever will be. Yep.
But Sam has to look down in between his legs, has to see where to hook his fingers to get underneath a seam. Raiden doesn't seem too terribly shy about all this, no, he spreads his legs wider, even lifts his hips slightly, inviting. The movement forces Sam to look. Its still perfect skin, unmarred in any fashion. Theres a cut V of faux muscle etched into the skin, it leads the eyes further down naturally- Sam sucks in a small inhale through his nose. He wasn't exactly sure what set of genitalia he was expecting. Male anatomy was supposedly his first guess, for obvious reasons. Then again he wasn't a hundred percent sure if most full bodied cyborgs even have genitals, especially a battle-minded one like Raiden. But this set certainly explains the flexibility, the way Raiden can practically spread his legs so wide he can split himself on any surface with ease.
Sam feels his blood rush south. The loose sweats hes wearing suddenly feel really uncomfortable. Its so pretty, so lush and pristine. He feels Raidens thighs give a slight twitch. Its sculpted perfectly and it matches Raiden's body so well. It looks like it'd be small, looks like it'd be warm, it looks so soft- Sam meets Raiden's eyes in a quick glance, but in that moment it seems like forever, he gives him a look that confirms something both mutually desired.
Raiden watches him as if he has nothing better to do, as if he's bored, impatient for something greater-
Sam clears his throat and plunges his fingers underneath the seam of the lower patch of skin. He quickly averts his gaze to the sheets next to Raiden instead. Sam exposes the metal in fast, rhythmic pulls till the skin glides off. After another fast glance, Sam notes that the set of genitalia still remains. Its built in, it seems, and the skin taken off was just part of the surrounding flesh. He can feel his body temperature rise, the sweat on his skin starting to dampen it. Best not to dwell on this now. He takes to the thighs next, and they roll off as easily as Raidens forearms did. The thigh seam stops above the knee, and for his own sake, Sam takes off the entirety of Raidens skin on his legs in one motion. Raiden lifts his leg to help peel it off, gives a small flick of his ankle to angle it off his clawed feet. The flesh ends up with the rest.
As Sam finishes the last leg, he doesn't miss the small sigh Raiden gives.
It sounds disappointed. The feelings mutual.
One last piece left. Raiden goes to turn, careful not to kick Sam as he situates himself on his stomach. Sam can practically feel his heart beat right up against his skin, he feels incredibly dirty for having all these thoughts, these reactions, towards Raiden when hes simply helping with a favor. But its increasingly difficult not to, no, not when Raidens rear is dangerously close to his hips.
“Be careful,” he says as Sams hands land on ether side of his spine. “My back is sensitive. You have to go from the bottom seam and go underneath. Near the top is a latch you'll have to release. You cant just peel this one off.”
“So I'll have to feel for it?”
“Mhmm. I'll tell you when you're close.”
Sam wills his breathing to settle. Just. Just get this over with. With a slight tremor in his hands he glides them underneath the barrier of the skin of Raidens back. It starts quite lower, nearing his rear, and Sam can feel the firm yet supple give of the muscles of Raidens sculpted backside on his wrists. The metal near his spine runs warmer than the rest, it surges with abundant energy. The etched underside of the skin rubs in a grating manner on the top of Sams flesh hand. Its not bad, no, its actually quite pleasing; a rough texture to itch pleasantly against his knuckles. As his hands slide upwards towards their goal Sam leans forward on his haunches, hovering over Raidens frame. From here he can see the outlines of his hands, the protrusion of their shape taking form underneath Raidens skin. Unwillingly, he splays them, watches in awe as he can make out outlines of his fingers. Underneath Raidens flesh they look eerily like an angels wings. Organic hands in the shape of wings, waiting to bloom out from their faux flesh imprisonment.
He can feel Raidens lungs expand from a deep inhale, his back arching down into the bed as Sam explores the underside of his back. Sam maps out the terrain, his fingers memorizing the divots, the harsh edges of metal, the bundles of delicate wires running up the length of his spine like his life depends on it. He looks over Raidens face, hes turned his head to the side, so Sam can still observe his expression. Raiden's eyes are shut, his face softened yet his brows are slightly scrunched into an unreadable emotion. His mouth is open but a sliver as he pants softly, his breath quiet yet labored under Sams palms. Raiden's bangs cling to his forehead, damp with a sheen of sweat. A deep shade of blush paints his face in full.
No one can be struck by lightning twice. But as Sam continues to intimately examine Raidens frame with just his touch, his attention rapt by Raiden's body and soul alone, he realizes distantly that he's been struck more than once in just one evening.
Sams heart is beating so hard he's certain Raiden can feel it under his own skin.
Raiden jolts back, pressing up against Sams frame as he gasps lightly. Sam gasps in surprise right back, his hands stutter in their movements.
“Right there.”
Sam curses internally. He knows damn well right then and there hes never going to forget hearing Raiden say that. The tips of his fingers on each hand curves inwards and upwards underneath the skin, and with a small graze he feels a mechanism, the clasps. All it takes is a firm slide downwards while pressing against them till he hears a muffled yet audible click. Sam can feel a tiny decompress of pressure releasing from the skin that still clings to Raiden's spine. It loosens, and when he reaches upwards towards the nape of Raidens neck, towards the final seam, it falls off cleanly and smoothly.
The final patch joins its mates in the pile. Sam has to steady himself on his hands on ether side of Raiden's body, his arms feel weak, his thighs feel pleasantly sore, his hips feel tingly. He takes a moment to catch his breath, and as he looks down upon Raidens back, he studies the now exposed spine. Well, almost exposed. Its nothing like hes ever seen. He can clearly see Raidens spine, the original bone, yet its encased in a tougher, clear skin. Albeit a bit murky from the organic blood that runs through and around its casing. He can follow its stream as it flows upwards in Raidens back, all the way up, disappearing under Raiden's original skin on the back of his head, under the fluff of his hair. Through the opaque, thinned river of blood he can make out his spine. Veins surround it, they crawl and twist around its arched curve. As he looks closer through, he sees wires. Theres not many, but they're hard to miss, their color pitch black through the red flow. The main circuits connecting Raidens spine to the rest of his body, Sam figures.
He swallows once more. Its strange and a bit morbid, even. But then again, this whole ordeal was. Just as confusing too. Yet Sam cant help but think despite the outlandish experience, despite his nerves being on edge the entire damn time, hes never been so blown away.
Or so turned on. Fuck.
Sam makes considerable haste, getting himself off Raidens frame to situate himself on the edge of the bed. He slides a hand through the front of his hair, its damp, cool with sweat. He reaches around to pull out the hair tie keeping it pulled up, taking it out only to readjust it once more. He ties it a bit higher this time in hopes of keeping the thickness of his hair off the nape of his neck. Its way too hot in here. His blood near scorching temperatures isn't helping much ether. Sam can feel it prick every inch of his skin, can feel it throb achingly good in one spot in particular. He sighs, leans forwards, stretching his back as he places his hands a top his knees to balance himself.
“I can take it from here,” he hears Raiden say. His voice still sounds dazed, yet its much clearer than before. Sam can feel Raiden shift, getting up from his spot to clean up. Sam finds himself once more lost for just a moment as he looks out towards the window. Its dark, now. Yet theres a small, barely noticeable hue of day still there. The clouds overlap it, however, in a dark, thick smoke.
“Sam?”
“Yes?” Sam turns himself to the side slightly towards Raiden. He feels his mouth turn into a flat line as he studies Raiden's body once more. This isn't like when hes in his armor, its obviously not when hes in his skin. This is his frame, his skeleton to his body, his core to his machine. Raiden's waist is much slimmer, his stomach dips in significantly from there only being fibrous wire muscle and metal. His legs and arms are thin, too. His wrists are unbelievably thin without anything to cover them. They look frail and uncharacteristic on Raiden's body. But yet theres still a raw, thrum of strength and beauty radiating from him. Their eyes meet briefly. Sam can see that flash of light, that instance of a warm flicker in Raiden's eyes he remembers from earlier.
Raiden hesitates for a moment, uses his bottom metal teeth to score the corner of his upper lip for a quick second.
“Thanks.”
It comes out quietly, yet it resonates so loudly in Sams head. He gives Raiden a small, lopsided smile.
“Its no problem.”
The tension in the room is so thick he can feel it crush against his skin. Sam cant tell whether its from awkwardness or arousal or perhaps even a mixture of both. He… really needs to take care of that. With a final huff Sam goes to stand. He doesn't look back as he reaches the door to let himself out.
“Did you want to spar tomorrow?” Raiden's voice sounds a bit panicked, like the thought of the question was more of a last second ditch attempt.
Sams hand comes to the door frame, it lingers there a beat as he thinks over Raidens words. It sounds like a loaded question under its tone. He doesn't question it.
“Yes. Id like that.”
Raiden offers no reply and a second of silence passes. With a nod towards Raidens direction, Sam takes his leave. The door clicks softly behind him, and despite him now being out of the room, it still feels as though his presence is still here. Raiden lets out the shakiest sigh his lungs can muster as a tremor threads itself through his body. He feels overwhelmingly exhausted yet at the same time erratically thrilled. His insides give a weak twitch of arousal.
He sighs, his skins off and hes tired. Hed rather not bother with changing the sheets tonight. Raiden flops back down on his back, landing on his side to avoid hitting his exposed spine. He curls into himself, reaches down to pull the sheets up and over his frame. His heart still beats a bit frantically, but soon it calms to its usual rhythm. His eyes slide shut suddenly, beaten with overexertion. Oh, fuck it. He’ll put up his skin later, he wants to rest.
Sleep claims him almost instantly, its cradle soft, dark velvet. His consciousness drops as he breathes deep. He can feel the air around him thread through his metal, skim on the slates of his steel, caress the exposure of his wires. The room starts to turn cold as the sun sets behind the clouds, he can feel its slow timid freeze upon his spine even through the sheets. Raiden's sleep is cold and deep, and as his mind finally falls into its infinite darkness, he dreams of hands hes come to cherish. They’re metal and flesh alike, exploring everything with intense yet gentle dedication. They learn the texture of his wires, the expanse of his flesh, the give of his muscles and the silk of his hair in a sense of worship. They map out his body as if its the only thing they've ever known, and they press so hard that he can feel the organic blood rush, feel its heavy pulse so deep that he can feel it deep within his core, within his skin no longer there. Sams heart pulses so deep that it feels as though it is Raidens own.