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Colonel Quaritch has just about had it with all of the introductions to his various human contacts at Bridgehead. It’s just formality at this point; he doesn’t need to meet every damn technician and coffee runner in the colony. His neck’s getting tired from looking down at everyone. He’s ready to hit the hunt, get going, but they’ve still got plenty of prep before Ardmore sends them out. A few days of downtime feels like an eternity when revenge boils in your veins.
He knows his team got herded off to the barracks to get settled, but it looks like they’ve all got enough ants in their pants to split off into groups and check out the rest of the city. He wants to believe Lyle’s keeping them out of trouble, but he may very well be the source of that trouble too.
Hell, they’ve been dead . They’ve earned a little bit of fun. If it helps them decompress before things get intense, he’s fine with some contained mischief. For their first night on world, he expects plenty of shenanigans in the barracks. No doubt they’ve got a metric shit ton of steam to blow off in the form of dorm-style pranks and late-night games.
He’ll be shielded from that in his private quarters, but he still wants to check out what kind of amenities the RDA has deigned to offer their brand new pack of Recombinant soldiers. Hopefully it’s more than a fucking kennel.
As the colonel rounds the corner to the barracks, his ears train forward before realizes he hears anything.
Music. Something familiar. Someone must’ve stayed behind.
The closer he gets, the easier it is to make out the beat. In the hall, he can tell whoever’s listening is singing along. Pretty voice. One he recognizes instantly, one that pulls his face into a funny little smirk.
When’s the last time he heard her voice lilt that way? It had to have been only days before the big battle.
Echoing against tile.
Vibrating wet, hot skin under wet, hot hands.
By the time he’s in the doorway, he can make out the words. Zdinarsk sits on a bed, rubbing her beautifully tattooed arms. He can smell it from there; some kind of cream. He remembers the labcoats yammering about taking care of their bodies, from their queues to their toes. And that included skincare . Being ink-junkies, a few of them at the very least had a stock of moisturizing body cream as humans.
Quaritch hadn’t been that attentive to his tattoo in his past life. He kind of liked the faded look. Reminded him of how long it’d been with him, from Earth to his new home here. His new tattoo is completely fresh, perfect and dark against his deep cyan skin. It looks good, but… something about it is too perfect. Though he imagines being without it completely would feel even weirder.
He leans silently against the door frame, arms crossed, as he listens to Zdinarsk sing.
“The tide is high, but I'm holding on
I'm gonna be your number one…”
She sways with the song, hand running down her arm like an amber-scented wave crashing on the beach. Each stroke always toward the heart, deepening the color of her ink with nourishing butters, emulsified to perfection.
“I'm not the kinda girl
Who gives up just like that…”
Miles’ tail begins to sway with the music too.
“Oh, no…”
Fwap. Oops. His tail hit the doorframe. Zdinarsk’s big ears flick up like a fawn caught unawares in a field. Startled, she turns with wide eyes and shuts off the music.
“Sir,” she addresses him, starting to get up. But Quaritch puts a hand out to stop her.
“At ease.” He enters the room properly now. “Just makin’ my rounds. I see you’ve already settled in.”
“No place like home,” she snarks, sitting back and tucking one sockless blue foot under herself.
He smirks and pretends to take his time looking around the place. It really is his first time checking out where his squad is shacked up, but he’s not exactly interested in inspecting anymore. But it isn’t too bad. A touch cramped for a bunch of oversized jarheads, but at least enough for them to shake out. Air’s fresh here, not the same canned shit in their Atmos packs.
“Figured you’d be out with the others,” he grunts as he lowers to pick up a forgotten food wrapper by someone’s bed. Probably Brown’s doing.
Zdinarsk resumes rubbing her arm. “Last chance I’m gonna get for alone time,” she answers. And she’s right. After this, it’ll be a lot of pissing in front of each other in the forest.
Miles hums a chuckle, tossing the trash away before standing upright again.
“What about you?” she asks him, twisting the lid closed on her body cream and getting up to shelf it. The amber scent still fills Miles’ nose, more sensitive than ever. “Done with meetings?”
“Not even close. Gonna be shakin’ hands until midnight.”
As Zdinarsk’s arm lowers from the shelf, he can’t help himself. Miles reaches out to close his hand gently around her wrist. She stops, raising an eyebrow at him, but realizes what he’s getting a look at. His thumb rubs over her hand, then the small tats decorating her knuckles. Then his hand slides down her forearm, tracing the intricate ink telling a story there.
“They really went all-out,” he comments. “Looks good.”
She turns her arm so he can admire the deeper colors there. Returning the gesture, she runs the back of her fingers over his bicep and the eagle that got reborn with him.
“Yeah. Guess they didn’t want us feeling naked.”
“If they didn’t want that, they should’ve woken us up in more than gowns .”
“Shouldn’t have woken us at all.”
Miles’ mouth goes a little lopsided at the unexpectedly sullen response. Her eyes are avoidant as his touch lingers on her arm.
“Marissa,” the colonel says, voice low, like it always is when he addresses her in private.
The sound of skin on skin.
“I’m fine,” she answers the question that wasn’t asked. Something telepathic between them that they’ve never been able to explain.
Hand under the chin. “Sure don’t seem fine.”
Her face is calm but her ears twitch with repressed anxiety. “Just… processing all this shit. Like everyone else.”
Miles buys about half of it, releasing her chin to glance over at the little wireless speaker still blinking on the shelf.
“Uh-huh. This how you process shit? Oldies and lotion?”
Zdinarsk stretches her arms, putting them on his strong shoulders so he gets a whiff of the body cream. It’s absolutely on purpose, he thinks, his nose twitching.
“I think Blondie counts as classical at this point, old man.”
“Might be right on that one...” Quaritch grins a little, a fang peeking out. He turns his face into her forearm, inhaling deeply. The scent on her skin is doing something to him… Shit, how much time until the next meeting? He checks his watch but finds he doesn’t really care.
“Let me take care of ya. Like old times.”
Now she laughs. As attractive as always. “You horny fuck. They really did copy and paste us.”
“Sure did.” He’s getting grabby. He may have time before his next meeting, but there’s no telling when their squad will start trickling back in. After this, it’ll be harder to get her alone.
“Why don’t you put that song back on? Wanna hear ya sing again.”
She seems to think for a moment, licking her lips. Then, in one swift swing, she leans over and hits a button on the speaker. The song starts over with the rapping of drums, before bumping into a tropical beat with fluttering, sensual horns. The kind of song grandparents listened to on vacations.
Miles kisses her neck just like she likes, rocking her with the music. When he gets to her mouth, he’s delighted by the familiar sugary taste of bubblegum. She’s always been soft, but her new skin is a whole different feeling under his lips. He has a feeling his new lips feel just as good, because she’s humming and squeezing his shoulders already. He wants to feel the rest of her and wants her to feel his lips elsewhere too.
Before long, her tank top and sports bra are lifted, pretty breasts swallowed up by his large hands. Everyone’s bodies are different, trim, a bit lanky in places, but he’d recognize her perfect rack anytime, tats or no tats.
Zdinarsk stretches back on the bed, tail curling underneath her when his tongue laps at a perky pink nipple. She looks down at him, fingers digging into his scalp, egging him on. He takes the unspoken nudge and closes his lips around her nipple, eyes fluttering closed and treating her to the view of his charming new eyelashes. One hand squeezes a breast while he sucks, and he pauses only to switch sides. Like a hungry stray, he pulls her sensitive flesh into his warm mouth again and again.
He’s always thought maybe he enjoys this part more than she does. A deep moan underneath the music tells him maybe not… Maybe she’s even more sensitive now, in this body. He’s certainly already got something going on below the belt just from servicing her. He shifts to offset the damp pressure, moving her dogtag out of the way.
He wonders how different she is down there, because he sure as hell is. He’d eaten her alive enough times as a human to give HR a fucking stroke. The memory of her taste, how soft she was under his lips, is fresh and vivid as ever. He’s not going to have to wonder for long, it seems, because she’s already enthusiastically wriggling to get her waistband loosened.
Miles releases a nipple and kisses back up her chest and neck, one hand reaching down to help her pull her pants down and off.
“Tell me what ya want,” he breathes into her, feeling her pulse under his lips. His hand hovers over her underwear, just barely putting enough pressure to get her legs moving.
“Like you don’t already know.” She scratches at his scalp again, closer to his queue. He grunts from the tingle it sends down the strange appendage, getting a little more aggressive with his kisses.
“Mmhm, but I wanna hear it from ya,” he says.
She looks at him, at his stupid smile, at those impish little fangs, and gives him a sweet bubblegum kiss.
“Boss. I want your head between my thighs.”
One last lick up her breast to make her shiver and the colonel is mouthing hungrily down her abdomen.
“You got it, sweetheart…”
As he pulls her underwear down, leaving it on one ankle, excitement and curiosity sends a jolt to his groin. His pupils circle wide at the sight. She’s so adorably pink , but familiar enough, everything identifiable even with obvious differences. The biggest being that, well… she’s bigger .
Zdinarsk chuckles at how entranced he is, tickling his head with her nails again to get his attention. With her other hand, she reaches down. One little tug is all it takes to retract the hood protecting her glans, and Miles has to swallow saliva. He’s no stranger to the variety of vulvas humans have to offer, but Christ, that’s a fat clit. Just begging to be sucked. It’s even standing up a little, ready for action.
“I’ll be damned…” he rasps, kissing her inner thigh and cutting his big round eyes up to her. “For little ol’ me?”
She chuckles, because only Miles Quaritch can manage to be this corny but so charming at the same time. But that laugh soon turns into a soft moan as he flattens his tongue against her, still only teasing, dipping his tongue into her hole like she’s made of pure sugar. He takes his time wetting her, warming her up, enjoying the music while he does so.
Her desperation becomes evident in the flicking of her tail, the way she rocks her hips up into his mouth. So he finally gives her what she’s after and closes his lips around her engorged clit. A shaky sigh has her arching and he uses one hand to massage her lower back, pulling her into him.
She’s so sweet . He kisses her there slowly, driving her crazy. Her clit throbs against his soft new lips, so reactive to each small touch.
“Oh, shit ,” Zdinarsk whispers, shaking. “Just like that, sir…”
Anyone who’s ever had the pleasure of experiencing this man’s mouth knows one thing: he can make a mess out of anyone in just a few minutes. In his new Recombinant body, with Recombinant pussy under his lips, things are no different. Hell, he might even be better at this now, somehow.
Before long, she’s digging her heels into his back and compressing his head between her thighs. Exactly as she always did. He doesn’t let up, swirling his tongue and not giving her a chance to recover. Zdinarsk’s hand covers her mouth, trying to muffle the lewd noises coming out.
Her cunt contracts a few times, begging for more stimulation, so he gives it to her. One finger slips easily in to curl at her front wall, gently massaging there. She grips around it with a broken groan.
“Fuck yeah —m-more—”
Ever the gentleman, he gives her what she asks. Two large digits now, fingertips kneading right where she’s tender and squishy. She moans long in encouragement.
Do Na’vi have this spot too or did she get lucky with her human DNA?
Does he have that same spot…?
That’s a question for another time.
A static sound freezes them both, but he soothes her with a palm on her belly. Just his comms.
He pulls back from her with a parting kiss—and nearly pops out of his sheath at the sight. Not only is she puffy, clutching his fingers like they’re a lifeline, her clit is even more erect than when they started. She could penetrate with that thing. It’d be shallow, but damn. He’s impressed.
Without wiping his mouth, he presses his neck comms and speaks. “Copy. Steppin’ out soon.” A wink at Zdinarsk as she looks down at him, the purple flush of her cheeks pretty as a flower.
Miles grunts excitedly, sealing his lips back around her clit. He resumes pumping her and his free hand reaches up, massaging a breast the way he knows she loves it. Neither of them notice that the song ends and a new one begins, completely wrapped up in each other. Her tail curls around his arm, gripping in time with her cunt, and he knows she’s close.
A rough pinch of her nipple is all it takes to help her get there, practically crushing Miles’ head between her legs as she comes, clit pulsing in intense jerks against his tongue. He doesn’t slow down, keeping the suction going long past her orgasm, until her legs are shaking around him. Even when her thighs and tail go limp, he keeps her in his mouth, hot, wet, and babied by his tongue. Anything to keep hearing those soft sighs and gasps.
When Marissa’s truly spent, he finally releases her, a little sadly. She’s still breathing and staring at the ceiling as she comes down.
“That’s my girl…” he crows proudly, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his wrist. He shifts back on his heels and pats her thigh apologetically. “Not very polite to leave a lady like this, but… duty calls.”
She laughs hoarsely, extending a long arm to grab her underwear off her ankle. “You going to a meeting with a boner?”
He looks down at his crotch with a comical blink. Guess that’s one good thing about this new setup. Can’t tell he’s got anything going on, thanks to the sheath. But it feels tight as hell. He’s definitely going to be uncomfortable until it settles down, unless a stray thought makes him pitch a tent right there in a room full of corporate suits.
“Don’t you worry about me,” he says, moving to help her dress.
She stops him though, holding up her RDA-branded panties in front of his face. After a moment, she lets them drop and he catches them.
“Something to help you out when you’re done,” she clarifies with a mischievous smirk, turning to slip a leg back into her pants. Commando it is.
Oh, he could pin her to the bed all over again. But his watch says it’s time to run.
He stuffs the garment into a pocket and pulls her close by the wrists. A goodbye candy kiss to remember her by and he spends the rest of the day’s meetings idly thumbing the fabric of her underwear.