Midnight Train  Written 6.16.06 (C) Rogue 2006

An urban fairy tale-ish story with definite erotic elements. This may tweak graphic sexual sensiblities, so just bear that in mind. Very likely NWS.

Home late again from another boring day. Lately everything seems the same, all shades of grey. She taps her foot, waiting for the subway to come, knowing it's always sporadic this time of night. It's the end of the week and most of the people disembarking from the other side are heading into town for drinks, dancing and various mating games; and all she wants to do is get home. She looks at the board again, the timestamp glowing in yellow orange dots: 2 minutes until the next train.

Tired of reading or listening to her iPod to block the world out, she turns and walks to one of the marble benches in the middle of the platform. The day has been hot; sweltering at times. She's grateful that she spent most of the day in an office building, even if the air conditioning always seems to be set to one extreme or the other - 60 or 80. The night air above is moist, and it settled on her skin like sticky dew. The air in the tunnels is slightly less warm, but equally as damp. Summer in D.C. It's cloying and hard to breathe, usually, but that doesn't stop everybody else from going out and enjoying themselves.

Only she, it seems, is unable to bear the air quality; the heat. Sweat trickles across her brow, tickling, and she moves to wipe it away with a frown.

"What I wouldn't do for a portable air conditioner." she grumbles, placing her backpack next to her. "Or a fan."

The items in her backpack are pretty much useless for combatting the heat. A biology textbook, a small laptop and several pens and pencils. Even the notebook she has is floppy, and would make a poor fan.

The train finally arrives, and she breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that most of the cars are air conditioned. The doors open and she steps into the cool breeze, thanking the various gods of cool air and divine providence that something in this awful city actually works the way it should.

She's lived in and around this area for most of her life, dreaming of a life beyond - a life three thousand miles away. Northern California. Someday, she thinks, someday I'll actually pull myself out of this swamp and move across the country to where I truly need to be.

If only.

It's been a dream that's persisted for so long; too long, she thinks at times.

Unmarried and with no children, she likes it that way - wishes that she could live more like a vagabond. Living life from day to day instead of being caught up in the monotany that a regular job and bills brings. She remembers a friend from a time that seems so long ago, somebody she met in another country far away. The tales of their travels excite her, and she wishes that she could be that person; that she could take that first step away from what she should do, and finally make the road meet her feet where she wants it to.

She settles in the seat, taking a moment to look around at her fellow passengers. Anything could happen on this trip home, she thinks to herself as she imagines it. The train wrecking in one of the underground tunnels; everybody evacuating and making their way to the surface. An earnest vigilante, chasing a criminal from one car to another, knocking several people over as they fight in the middle of the car. The nation's capitol under attack as the trainload of passengers waits with fearful breath as they await the outcome. Somebody attacking her; bringing out a frenzied response as she breaks his leg and cracks several of his ribs.

Most of her thoughts are violent, for some reason that she can't quite understand. She never really did. It's something that she shares with only several other people that she's run across in her lifetime. Some of the people that she's talked with brag; they're all flash - but it's the ones who've been 'in the shit', as the saying goes, that really quicken her blood. Petty scuffles and skirmishes aren't what excite her.

Armageddon. World War.

Raging against the machine of the enemy; that's what stirs her soul.

Her body has never been strong enough to join that conflict, that one single moment where the body and soul unite against a common enemy; truly working in synchonicity. She has always had issues with breathing, and as she gets older, her joints seem to want to give out rather than work properly. She feels like an old soldier who has never had the chance to fight, never engaged with a force that needed defeating; and she feels it in her bones. A quiet longing. A sorrow of sorts.

She sighs and stares at the map of the trainsystem on the wall across from her. The same old destinations, same 'places of interest'; although very few hold any interest for her now. This city feels dead for her, and has for years now. She feels grey and unaccomplished, although there are many who would look at the fullness of her life and see her as having lived in an exciting flash of everpresent light. She can't see it, and hasn't been able to feel much for what feels like a very long time.

"Find joy in the simplicity of life, and there will be prosperity in your soul." she remembers a voice from long ago; a reading told to her by a good friend.

At times, she's able to do just that; listening to a burbling creek as the water gently buffets the stones in its path, listening to the trees creak as they sway gently in the summer night. The pleasure gained from a wild animal brave enough to creep up and touch her shoe, to take food from her hand. There is majesty in this also, but she wants so much more.

There is a dark part of her that wants to be let out, to play among the living; but she's well aware that if she ever released it, there'd be no turning back. And no taking it back. It squats, waiting for the chance to be free, waiting for the chance to truly run and live, but she keeps it well chained - and thus her passion slowly dies. There has been no release for her inner passion for many years now, and with this quashing of need, of desire, it's slowly twisting into something else. Bitterness. Anger. Disgust.

She hides the emotions well, but there are some who see; some who walk on the other side of the street to avoid her, harmless as she may initially appear. And there are those who bow to her as well; the vagrants in the alleyways. As yellow streams of acrid urine trail down the walls, they look at her and bow, still pissing. They see her, when no-one else can.

The train slows as it hits the next stop, and she watches several passengers as they exit; their expressions tired and vague. Do they feel the same? she wonders as the recorded voice echoes through the car, stating that the doors are closing.

She takes another deep breath, then starts at the sound of the doors opening as a tall figure pushes his way into the car. The doors close behind him, and she rolls her eyes. Some asshole's always gotta force it. He can't just wait for the next train. she mutters in her thoughts, dismissing it as she goes back to looking at the railmap.

She hears the thunk of shoes on the carpeted metal flooring as the person makes their way towards her, and she wonders if this is the night; if this is event that will change her life. It never is, though. She looks over, out of the corner of her eye, and sees that the man; yeah, it's most definitely a man, is still moving toward her side of the car. He's dressed like a stockbroker, black briefcase in hand. She notices that he's well groomed as she bows her head, looking over at him through hooded eyes as he takes the seat across from her. Self important prick, she muses. She knew the type. Power brokers and go getters, so-called alpha males that want to play in the shark tank of business, but if they'd ever had a gun placed to their head they'd piss their pants in terror. She smiles a little secretive smile, feeling smug and self assured.

He's what society in general would consider almost painfully attractive, but his appearance repulses her. Or - she wants it to. Another should to add to the long list of shoulds. She looks away, anywhere but at him - at this man who thinks he can walk where he wants and take what he wants because he has money. But then, if he had money, why is he on the Metro at 11 o'clock at night?

She hears a chuckle, and she looks over to find him staring back at her, a curious glint in his eyes.

His cornflower blue eyes.

He smiles at her then, warmly, and she quickly looks away again. Slowly, unable to stop herself, her eyes slide back to look at him, and she gives him a sidelong glance. His smile grows wider and he leans back into his seat; confident and sure of himself. He knows he's good looking and is using it to fuck with me. Her eyes narrow as she drops all pretense and glares back at him.

He's grinning now, and raising an eyebrow in silent query.

"What?" she growls, angry that she'd broken the silence first.

His voice is pleasant enough as he leans forward and quietly says, "You think you've got me all figured out, don't you?"

She grits her teeth, not liking that she's so transparent. Not wanting to admit it.

He chuckles again, this time a little louder. "It's not so easy, placing labels on people, you know. Yours nearly chokes out who you really are entirely."

At this, her eyes grow wide and she looks away from him, flushing. Her eyes again creep back to him, and he cocks his head a little as he catches her gaze.

"Tell you what," he offers, slowly pulling his steel grey tie down and away from his neck and unbuttoning the first button of his starched white shirt. "I'll drop mine if you drop yours."

Her tongue quickly flickers out to moisten her lips, her pulse quickening as she clutches her backpack tighter. There's definitely something different about him, but she can't quite put her finger on it.

The train begins slowing for another stop, and her breath catches. She looks at the sign outside, seeing that the next train will be ten minutes behind this one.

The man leans forward, his voice growing low as he murmurs, "Think of it as going through the Looking Glass. You'll never know until you take that first step."

She looks back at him, shocked, and his smile hold something else behind his eyes now as he holds a hand out to her. She remembers a chilling line from one of her favorite faerietales as she looks back at his hand, trembling now.

Be bold, be bold
But not too bold
Or else your life's blood might run cold.

Something momentous was just around the corner, she could feel it in her blood. She could either run from it, and her fears about herself and her own personal bullshit, or she could take that step forward and grasp his hand, hoping that it would lead her somewhere that would take the grey away.

She takes a quick, deep breath in; forcing it out as her hand darts out and slaps into his.

He presents her with a dazzling smile, his blue eyes dancing as he breathes, "And thus it begins.”

--

The world warped around her, and she felt a vague pressure in her head, a disorientation that lasted for just a moment before a warm liquid THUMP rippled through the air, setting her senses tingling. She had a moment to notice that her legs didn’t ache anymore before she realized that the train was gone. She was now standing with him in what looked like a moonlit arboretum. She blinked rapidly, pulling her hand away from him and looking at it, checking it over to make sure that it was still attached. There was a strong tingling sensation in her fingers that was slowly dying down, and she clutched her hand into a brief fist several times. Her breath was coming in hitches and she realized that she was now having a full blown panic attack; hyperventilation, dizziness, heart hammering as if it intended to batter its way out of her chest - the works.

“Shit.” she heard the man exclaim as he quickly opened his briefcase, pulling out a paper bag and helping her hold it over her mouth. She looked up at him with wild eyes as she struggled to breathe slowly, in and out, in and out. She felt an arm wrap around her and she leaned into him, her knees suddenly buckling. The fearful tears that always came during these attacks trailed down her face, and she blinked to get them out of her eyes so that she could see. He was looking down at her, his expression concerned as he held her.

“Breathe. It’s ok. Just relax.” The sound of his voice was smooth, soothing. Her breathing slowly became more regular as she looked around. It was beautiful. Dirt paths wound through thick underbrush, and she could hear the sounds of strange birds calling to each other. Lanterns lit the way, throwing a flickering golden glow over everything, and she began to laugh a little as she realized that it was hot and moist again. One climate changed for another, both almost exactly the same. She couldn’t escape it.

He took the bag from her lips, and grinned. “Sorry about that. I keep forgetting that Wights aren’t used to the trip.”

She frowned back at him, asking, “Whites? Do you mean caucasians?”

He shook his head, chuckling as he helped her to her feet. “Wights are..well, it’s a really old word for human.”

She let out a weak laugh and wobbled on her feet. “What, are you saying that you’re not human?”

He pulled his tie off, undoing the knot and smoothing it out before placing it into his briefcase. “Bing. Got it in one.”

She gaped at him, then began laughing. “Alrighty then. Good thing to know up front.”

He could hear the disbelief in her voice as he began unbuttoning his shirt. “Suit yourself. Think what you like.” He smiled as he pulled his suit jacket off, folding it neatly before depositing it inside.

She took a step back as he pulled the starched shirt out of his pants and began stripping out of it, revealing a very nicely muscled torso that was covered with strange symbols in black ink.

“What in the world are you doing?”

He folded the shirt up, raising an eyebrow and murmuring, “Well, I’dve thought that was obvious.”

She clutched her backpack in front of her, taking another step back. Sure, he was cute, but she was hardly ready to jump into sex with a strange man that she’d just met on the Metro. The wierdness of suddenly being teleported to somewhere else - instantly, she could handle, but something this casually sexual?

For some reason, that was a stretch.

She watched him shuck his shoes off and unbutton his pants, and she quickly turned around before he pushed them down around his ankles. She trembled as she waited for him to finish, hoping desperately that he´d end up putting something else on.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as being particularly shy." he said as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She closed her eyes and dug her fingers into the backpack, not wanting to give up her control over the situation, even though it had gone far beyond that by now. She was standing in an entirely alien environment, not at all aware of where she was, but for some reason the illusion of having some kind - any kind - of control was reassuring.

He gently spun her around, and murmured, "What are you so afraid of?"

She slowly opened her eyes, startled to find him so close. His entire appearance had changed, his eyes glittering and his inky black hair falling over his brow in sharp points. He smiled and let his hand drop, taking a step away from her so that she could look at him. He had a good, solid face; but now that she had a chance to truly look at him, he looked far too attractive to be straight. Full lips, high cheekbones; everything about his face was almost overly sensual. Her eyes widened as she spotted the large black wings that stretched over his head.

"What are you?" she asked as she gently placed her backpack on the floor. Her gaze trailed down his body, and she was relieved to see that he was now wearing a black kilt with what looked like a pair of beaten up combat boots.

His wings gently flapped twice before retracting and settling against his back, and the air suddenly had a sharp, spicy tang to it that set her senses tingling.

"I am one of the Rephaim. One of the last of my kind." He stepped towards her slowly as her eyes flickered over the multiple designs all over his body.

"Not everything, or everyone, is as they seem." he breathed as he stepped up to her, heat flickering in the depths of his blue eyes. "You cannot force people into categories, then become irritated when they do the same to you."

She felt a flush creep into her face and she opened her mouth to reply, annoyed now. He stepped forward and let his fingers trail down her jawline, startling her into silence again. "I'm not saying this to shame you. It's just the way it is."

She felt warmth trail along her skin where his fingers touched, almost a fluttering. Her voice cracked as she asked, "What are you doing?"

He smiled and ran his thumb gently along her lower lip, his voice a sensuous purr as he replied, "You're not too good at the obvious, are you?" He leaned in and kissed her, his lips gently brushing against hers. She stiffened, then shivered as he sucked her lower lip into his mouth.

He slowly pulled away, smiling - and she felt her heart hammer in her chest as his fingers brushed lightly against her throat, sliding down to trail along the line of her blouse. "I d-don't.." she stammered and he slid a hand up into her hair, gently squeezing.

"You don't?" he asked, leaning in and letting his lips brush against the skin at her collar bone, pulling her blouse over her shoulder and following it with feather-light kisses.

Come to think of it, what exactly was it that she didn't do again? When was the last time she'd found herself in this kind of situation? She'd be damned if she could remember. She usually wanted to wait until there was a possibility of a relationship before coming anywhere close to this kind of intimate contact. He was pulling feelings and sensations from her that she couldn't remember having before. Again, she could either choose to run away from it and wonder what might have happened, or just go with it and see where it lead. Such things had never really been easy with her, and she struggled with this while she tried to figure out what she wanted to do.

She let out a disappointed sigh as she felt him pull away and look back at her, his expression amused. "You're thinking too much."

"I do that." she murmured, shivering and not wanting him to stop.

"Then stop." he replied, his expression matter-of-fact.

She looked back at him, puzzled. All the heat seemed to have left his eyes, and he was simply looking back at her now. She blinked, unsure of what to say.

"Let's put it another way. What, in this moment, do you want?" he asked, his lips quirking in a grin as he added, "The truth."

She looked away from him, not certain if she could say what she truly wanted while looking at him. Her voice sounded small and quiet as she replied, "Passion. Fire." her voice trembled as she looked back at him. "I want to burn. To feel."

His eyes danced then, and she could hear the heat in his voice now as he slid his hands over her hips and pulled her close. "Let's see what we can do about that, then."

She cried out as he pressed against her, his mouth hovering over hers, but not quite touching. She could feel him grinning as he quickly kissed the corner of her mouth. He slowly moved to the hollow just under her ear and breathed, "I'll make you burn, lovely. But you'll have to beg me to bring you release."

She could feel the well contained control in his momements as his fingers slowly slid up her hips, pulling her shirt out of her pants. She responded with a fire of her own that startled her.

"Tease me, but damn well carry through or I'll kill you."

He smiled against her neck, chuckling softly as his tongue flicked out to taste her. She shuddered as one of his hands crept under her blouse, giving her ribcage a gentle squeeze as he pulled away and said, "Take it off."

Her fingers trembled as she tried to undo the buttons, and he clasped her hands in his and breathed, "This is going to happen. It doesn't matter how long it takes. Relax. Breathe easy."

She fought to control her breathing, which she had just now realized was verging on hyperventilation again. He gently stroked her knuckles, his voice soft as he brushed his lips against her cheek, asking, "How long has it been since you last felt the touch of a man's hands?"

Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she felt herself relaxing slowly. "Years." she answered, her eyes snapping back open to look at him.

He gently took her hands away from her blouse, and began undoing the buttons himself. "There is a brazen spirit in you, but it's gone cold and uncertain after so many years of disuse."

She gave a weak laugh as he slipped the blouse off her shoulders, folding it up and turning to place it in the suitcase behind him. "What are you doing?" she asked, and he looked back at her, grinning.

"Taking your mask from you." he replied, kneeling in front of her now. His wings flared out so that the tips didn't touch the ground as his hands slowly trailed up her legs. "Bringing your phoenix out."

She trembled as his thumbs slid along the seams of the pants along her inner thighs. As his thumbs met, he pressed them into her and an electric jolt ran through her, drawing a hiss from her lips as he purred, "I see you."

He gently trailed the crook of a finger along the seam in her crotch, and she delighted in the sensation as he cupped her with his hand. Even with the fabric between them, his hands were hot and clever, and she cried out, fisting her hands at her sides.

She watched his fingers creep up to her zipper, his eyes sparking with a deep intensity as he slowly drew it down. He slowly, langorously slid her pants down her legs, trailing his hands down to her ankles, letting her step out of them. He slowly slid his hands back up her body as he stood, moving them around to her lower back and pressing into her. She was still reacting at this point, making no move to touch him of her own volition. He smiled and reached up to tweak her nipple, gently tugging on it as she sighed. He flicked the hooks on her bra open with his other hand, and he gently pulled the cotton away from her skin, pinching harder this time as he covered her mouth with his.

She felt something inside her snap, and she met his kiss with furious abandon. He smiled and hefted her in his arms, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. His mouth pulled a part of her that had been too long dormant to the surface and she growled, nipping at his lip. She felt his fingers tighten against her ass in response as he held her up, his other hand tightening in her hair.

Oh my god. She'd never felt anything like this. It was as if her entire body had roared to life in a blaze that threatened to consume her.

"Please.." he heard her whisper, and he exhulted - triumphant.

"Please what?" he asked, his tone light and teasing.

She felt the fabric of his kilt between them and her voice became husky as she demanded, "Take it off. Fuck me."

He chuckled and slid two fingers along her slickness, feeling her breath hitch. "What, so soon?"

"Yes, yes, yes." she whispered, her breath hot on his neck.

She moaned as she felt his fingers slide into her, gently probing. "Now, now. That's not proper begging." he purred, moving his other hand down to hold her up while he slid a slick finger over her clit. She rocked back in his arms and let out an unintelligible cry as his clever fingers worked against her, sending shivers of ecstacy through her.

She felt his lips on her breast and she clawed at his shoulders, hissing. He smiled against her skin, pleased with her response. He leaned into her, whispering into her hair, "Do you now burn?"

She wet her lips with her tongue, biting down on her lower lip. Close - she was so close. "Yes!" she cried out, her voice dropping to a husky purr as she brought her lips to his ear and replied, "I burn. God, I burn."

He felt her tipping closer to the edge and slid his finger off her clit, thrusting it back into her slickness.

"NO!" she yelled, frustrated now. "Don't stop, don't stop."

She felt him heft her higher for a moment, then she felt him slide her back down, pressing into her, hot and thick. He took his time, watching her eyes flutter shut as he slid inside her, savoring the feeling. Did she realize how tight she was? He felt his breath catch in his throat as he filled her, his hips now pressed firmly against her ass. She rocked her head back and shuddered as he quickly pulled out, then slammed back inside her. His wings began to curl around his shoulders as he paced himself, wanting to draw the sensation out for her.

Spiralling closer to the white hot light of release, she clutched at him, biting into his shoulder as he pushed her closer. Something changed, and the sensation became a little too intense. She'd been with other people in the past, and had always instinctively scrabbled away from them because the sensation became too much. She'd always fled from mind shattering orgasms before, not wanting to be blown apart by them - and she'd always ended up somewhat disappointed. Something about it scared the hell out of her, but she didn't realize it until now. He bore down on her, forcing her to ride it, his tone hungry and vicious as he growled, "No - this time you'll take it. This time you'll come, whether you like it or not."

It started to hurt now, and she tried to push away from him, but he just held her tighter, his breath heavy with exhertion. She started getting a little scared and the tone of his voice changed, becoming softer now. "Ride it to the end. Trust me."

She shivered at the sound of his voice, and suddenly the feeling changed - no longer painful. There was a moment where she could almost feel the wave as it began to roll through her, and she screamed out as it finally crashed through her synapses, sending the fire she'd so desperately needed flooding through her body; burning away the grey. Her body was instantly dripping with sweat as he quickly followed, clutching at her and crying out as he stiffened beneath her, his wings wrapping around their bodies. Another loud liquid THUMP resonated in the air, and she felt it go through her soul.

The last of the flickers of fire curled through her body, and she opened her eyes, startled to find herself back on the train. The man was seated next to her now, back in his business suit, his briefcase on the floor next to him. She looked down to find him holding her hand, and felt him squeeze it gently.

"Better?" he asked.

She looked up to see his eyes dancing, his face still somewhat flushed.

She blinked, then grinned, blushing furiously.

"Better." she replied, giving his hand an answering squeeze. "Come home with me?" she asked, feeling bolder than she had in years.

He presented her with a wicked smile and murmured, "I thought you'd never ask."