The Primal Beast (CC/ADULT ) COMPLETE
Posted: Fri Aug 04, 2006 5:40 pm
Disclaimer: Characters and plot lines that appeared in the series, the books, and the concept of Roswell are not mine. Belong to Melinda Metz, UPN, Please don't sue.
Category:CC
Rating: MATURE - ADULT
Summary: The night after the escape from the white room....
It looked out through her eyes. It had been asleep, asleep her whole life. Dormant. Unneeded. But the fear of the girl had awakened it. The terror of the chase, the jump from the bridge into the cold water, the terror of the images the boy had shared with her. All of these things had finally awakened it.
It looked out through her eyes at the overturned van, felt through her nerves the shivering, shaking of her body as it pressed for warmth against his. But her cold didn’t bother it. Nothing mattered to it but the battle, for the battle was eternal, just as it was itself eternal.
It looked up at the boy through her eyes and wondered. He was strange, this one. Much time had passed since last his kind had awakened to join the battle. Perhaps too much time. Perhaps the knowledge was lost in them. Perhaps not. It didn’t matter because he was there, he was all there was to work with. She had chosen.
It looked out through her eyes at the wet clothes, the overturned van. It saw her memories of the pursuers, what they had done to the boy, what they would do to the two of them tomorrow. But it didn’t really need the memories. It knew the foe. Not the special unit of the FBI, but the true foe. Death. Death was seeking her.
It had long fought death. It looked out at the boy, looked out at the body of the girl, and it knew they would someday lose this fight, because death always won. And if nothing changed they would lose their fight tomorrow because they were too scared, too tired, too hungry, too exhausted, too frightened to beat death. Everyone would someday die, but these two would die tomorrow when the pursuers came again.
But it would not let that happen, because it hated death, it always had. It hated the certainty that death would always win, the certainty that all bodies are mortal. But it could buy them time, perhaps many years, and it would cheat death again, as it had cheated death so many times before. It reached out and possessed the mind of Liz Parker.
The despair had filled the mind of Liz Parker as they’d come to the shelter of this overturned van. Cold and wet and hungry and tired, and frightened,…..so terribly frightened, she’d clung to him, clung to his warmth.
She knew. This was it. They’d given their all just to get this far. There was nothing left. Their last reserves were spent. She saw it in his face as well. Their race was run, and they’d lost, or at least they would lose when the dawn broke, when their pursuers returned. And it took her then. The Primal Beast welled up from the depths of her as she realized they would only have this one night.
Max was surprised when Liz had pushed away from his arms, missing her closeness as well as the warmth of her, the only small comfort that had eased his despair. He looked up at her eyes as she kneeled there beside him, eyes that had lost their softness, that didn't really look like the eyes of the perfect Miss Parker.
He was surprised as her hands reached up to grasp the neckline of her wet sweatshirt and peel it from her body, shocked at how the wet t-shirt and bra molded themselves to the contours of her. He was even more surprised when she’d peeled those away too and looked down at him in the moonlight, with eyes that didn’t really seem like the eyes of Liz Parker at all.
It stirred something deep within him, some long forgotten racial memory, something that responded to that look in her eyes. Something that flared brightly in his mind as her hands tore at his own wet shirt and the Primal Beast in his own soul reached out to possess his mind as well.
With no more control than marionettes, the minds of Liz Parker and Max Evans watched in awe as the Primal Beast possessed them. His hands fumbled with her belt, hers with his, tearing away all impediments to their union. No tender words or soft caresses, no gentle foreplay to prepare her body for the rapid thrust as both bodies flung themselves violently into the penetration. The hardness of the floor, the cold, the wet, the fatigue, even the pain of the sudden penetration and torn tissue did not matter to the Primal Beasts in either Liz Parker or in Max Evans.
This was not about romance, this coupling. This was about the defiance of life over death. She pulled him to her, repeatedly rhythmically, ignoring the pain, finally forcing his release and hers, savoring the ripples of the waves going through her pelvis that carried his seed deep within her.
And then he used his power, used the connection, not to heal her torn membrane, because he was the Primal Beast as well as she, and neither cared. They reveled in the pain, the feeling she would carry for days to remind them of this moment, remind them of their joint defiance of death.
He used the power instead to look inside her, to follow the seed to the tube where they both knew the egg floated. To feel again the other penetration, even more violent, as chromosomes claimed their partners and a new aura burst force from the embryo, screaming its defiance of death.
They lay together then, still coupled, holding each other. And the Beasts within both teenagers rested content. They would return again in the morning.
The pursuers would come in the morning, seeking two cold, hungry, fatigued, and frightened teenagers. They would not find them. They would find only the Primal Beasts, both willing to destroy the world to protect their mate and unborn child.
If the pursuers were expecting easy prey and a quick victory....., they were coming to the wrong place. It would be a very painful error. And when the pursuers asked for mercy they would get the only mercy the Primal Beast knew, ......a quick kill.
Category:CC
Rating: MATURE - ADULT
Summary: The night after the escape from the white room....
It looked out through her eyes. It had been asleep, asleep her whole life. Dormant. Unneeded. But the fear of the girl had awakened it. The terror of the chase, the jump from the bridge into the cold water, the terror of the images the boy had shared with her. All of these things had finally awakened it.
It looked out through her eyes at the overturned van, felt through her nerves the shivering, shaking of her body as it pressed for warmth against his. But her cold didn’t bother it. Nothing mattered to it but the battle, for the battle was eternal, just as it was itself eternal.
It looked up at the boy through her eyes and wondered. He was strange, this one. Much time had passed since last his kind had awakened to join the battle. Perhaps too much time. Perhaps the knowledge was lost in them. Perhaps not. It didn’t matter because he was there, he was all there was to work with. She had chosen.
It looked out through her eyes at the wet clothes, the overturned van. It saw her memories of the pursuers, what they had done to the boy, what they would do to the two of them tomorrow. But it didn’t really need the memories. It knew the foe. Not the special unit of the FBI, but the true foe. Death. Death was seeking her.
It had long fought death. It looked out at the boy, looked out at the body of the girl, and it knew they would someday lose this fight, because death always won. And if nothing changed they would lose their fight tomorrow because they were too scared, too tired, too hungry, too exhausted, too frightened to beat death. Everyone would someday die, but these two would die tomorrow when the pursuers came again.
But it would not let that happen, because it hated death, it always had. It hated the certainty that death would always win, the certainty that all bodies are mortal. But it could buy them time, perhaps many years, and it would cheat death again, as it had cheated death so many times before. It reached out and possessed the mind of Liz Parker.
The despair had filled the mind of Liz Parker as they’d come to the shelter of this overturned van. Cold and wet and hungry and tired, and frightened,…..so terribly frightened, she’d clung to him, clung to his warmth.
She knew. This was it. They’d given their all just to get this far. There was nothing left. Their last reserves were spent. She saw it in his face as well. Their race was run, and they’d lost, or at least they would lose when the dawn broke, when their pursuers returned. And it took her then. The Primal Beast welled up from the depths of her as she realized they would only have this one night.
Max was surprised when Liz had pushed away from his arms, missing her closeness as well as the warmth of her, the only small comfort that had eased his despair. He looked up at her eyes as she kneeled there beside him, eyes that had lost their softness, that didn't really look like the eyes of the perfect Miss Parker.
He was surprised as her hands reached up to grasp the neckline of her wet sweatshirt and peel it from her body, shocked at how the wet t-shirt and bra molded themselves to the contours of her. He was even more surprised when she’d peeled those away too and looked down at him in the moonlight, with eyes that didn’t really seem like the eyes of Liz Parker at all.
It stirred something deep within him, some long forgotten racial memory, something that responded to that look in her eyes. Something that flared brightly in his mind as her hands tore at his own wet shirt and the Primal Beast in his own soul reached out to possess his mind as well.
With no more control than marionettes, the minds of Liz Parker and Max Evans watched in awe as the Primal Beast possessed them. His hands fumbled with her belt, hers with his, tearing away all impediments to their union. No tender words or soft caresses, no gentle foreplay to prepare her body for the rapid thrust as both bodies flung themselves violently into the penetration. The hardness of the floor, the cold, the wet, the fatigue, even the pain of the sudden penetration and torn tissue did not matter to the Primal Beasts in either Liz Parker or in Max Evans.
This was not about romance, this coupling. This was about the defiance of life over death. She pulled him to her, repeatedly rhythmically, ignoring the pain, finally forcing his release and hers, savoring the ripples of the waves going through her pelvis that carried his seed deep within her.
And then he used his power, used the connection, not to heal her torn membrane, because he was the Primal Beast as well as she, and neither cared. They reveled in the pain, the feeling she would carry for days to remind them of this moment, remind them of their joint defiance of death.
He used the power instead to look inside her, to follow the seed to the tube where they both knew the egg floated. To feel again the other penetration, even more violent, as chromosomes claimed their partners and a new aura burst force from the embryo, screaming its defiance of death.
They lay together then, still coupled, holding each other. And the Beasts within both teenagers rested content. They would return again in the morning.
The pursuers would come in the morning, seeking two cold, hungry, fatigued, and frightened teenagers. They would not find them. They would find only the Primal Beasts, both willing to destroy the world to protect their mate and unborn child.
If the pursuers were expecting easy prey and a quick victory....., they were coming to the wrong place. It would be a very painful error. And when the pursuers asked for mercy they would get the only mercy the Primal Beast knew, ......a quick kill.