Exam Night

Title: Exam Night
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sex, bad!sex, bad!het!sex, OC, consent issues
Summary: Sparx relaxes after examinations with a classmate.
A/N: Both characters are over sixteen--legal in my jurisdiction.

--

The knock at his door came as expected, and he wrenched it open quickly and shut it behind her.

"Hey." She wore pyjamas below her dressing-gown, frayed red ones with embroidered Lightning Moles above the pockets, and fluffy slippers--pink, which was another thing he hadn't expected. He'd thought it would be better to be dressed, and still wore the uniform in which he had sat the examination, though he was barefoot. "Don't knock the pyjamas, all right? My dad sent them to me two Magetides ago."

"I didn't intend to," Avraam assured her. "You can put it down here."

"Ilia said I should bring her share as well, 'cause if it was found in her room she'd be in so much trouble." She shrugged off the dressing-gown and left it in a dark pile on his floor.

"So she's still in the infirmary?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Docs say she was lucky it didn't sever her flight nerves completely. But she's gonna be fine, and because it wasn't her fault she'll get to sit the exam again."

"That's something, I guess," he said. "If you see her before I do, tell her that was incredibly brave. And we'll make sure to do this again."

"If it works. What'd you get?" She had already made her way over to his cupboard and was examining it cheerfully. "Three light-charged Lightning Juices and a small flask of Carnival-wine--that's pretty cool. So where's the hard Eastlander stuff?"

"I wanted to avoid conforming to stereotype." And it's quite hard to obtain. He shrugged. "What did you bring?"

"I got half a bottle of strong Hendekan brandy--Random caught me in his stash and said I could have it--and Ilia had two flasks of electrolytic whisky. So that's tons for two of us. We're gonna have to make sure it gets into the trash." She set her load down on the table next to his bed. "So. What do you want to try first?"

"Perhaps the Lightning Juices? Nice and...light, to start with?"

"All right, then." She threw him one, and took another in her hands. "Man, they make these tough to open. How're you going with yours?"

"I'm still trying." He twisted at its opening rather helplessly. "Do you think you could help?"

"Sure. Just wait--"

A stream of the golden juice shot up towards his ceiling as a particularly harsh yank of hers finally opened the container.

"Oops."

"Yes. Very precise description."

"Oh, come on, it's just a little bit." She reached under his bed and pulled out a shirt. "Easy to deal with."

"Sparx, that's my shirt!"

She paid him no heed as she wiped up the mess with it. "Don't worry. You can send it to the cleaners later." She bunched up the shirt in a small ball and stuffed it back under the bed. "Just as well Ilia couldn't make it, there's still one left." She opened it more easily this time, and took a sip. "Nice. Give me yours and I'll get it open."

"Thanks. I think," he added, casting a glance in the direction of his shirt before accepting the drink back from her.

It was fizzy, as though golden sparks were going off inside him, and tasted vaguely of apples. He felt slightly lightheaded, and wondered if it was having an effect so soon; he hoped not. He'd drunk static-charged Lightning Juice before, many (well, at least five) times, when they allowed cadets to try.

Sparx crumpled her container, and threw it in his waste disposal unit. He noted it; he couldn't afford to be caught with alcohol in his room.

"I'm gonna try the brandy next," she said. "Random swears it's good." She reached for it, unscrewed the cap, and reduced its level by a surprising amount.

She burped. "I like it," she said, and giggled, sitting down on his bed and lying back with the bottle still in her hand. "You sit down too," she said, patting the mattress beside her.

He sat next to her, somewhat gingerly as she pulled him down, and took another sip of Lighting Juice. He could get used to this, he thought, nice fizzy taste with that particular aftertaste, pleasantly unsettling and taking him to another level...

"Chuck me the Carnival-wine," she said, setting down the brandy. "I've left some of this for you. I think." She giggled again. "Tastes great!"

He stood up to fetch it for her; when he turned around she was stretched out on the bed where he'd been.

"I said chuck it. I bet I can catch it," she said, holding up her hands.

He threw it, lightly, aiming as best he could; he was rather pleased to note that it went where he had wanted, though she fumbled the catch slightly.

"Finish the juice," she said, twisting the mage-sealed cap. "And don't forget to try the brandy."

He drained the last few drops of it still standing, as she tasted the wine. "Sit down," she said again, clearing a space for him next to her side. "I don't like you just standing there. Have some brandy." She shoved it in his direction, and he poured what was left into the small cup he kept on his nightstand.

She took another sip of the wine, which stretched into a longer gulp; when she lowered the flask he could see that her cheeks were a shade pinker than usual, and her eyes seemed to glitter with excitement. "Really good," she said. "Avraam, you have got to taste this. I'd be a real bad friend if you didn't."

"Let me try the brandy," he said, raising the cup to his lips and letting the first drops of it slip down his throat. It tasted slightly bitter, and he wasn't sure he liked it as much as the Lightning Juice; still, he supposed alcohol was an acquired taste...

"No!" Sparx knocked the brandy from his hand, waving the flask in his face. "Sorry. Have some of this. Before I drink it all."

"Sparx are you...all right?" he asked. His words were starting to slur slightly; he supposed the Lightning Juice had started to kick in.

"'Course," she said. Her hold of the flask seemed to falter. "Have the rest of it, to make up for the brandy. And then we can have the whisky."

He took a few sips of it as she watched; it was quite strong-tasting, flavoured by odd spices, and he wasn't sure he quite liked it. "Good," he said, handing it back to her.

"Get the whisky," she said, and tipped it to her mouth, holding it there for what felt like an uncomfortably long time.

"Are you sure? Sparx?"

"Sure I am." She hiccupped. "This is fun!" She put it to her mouth again, and then laid it down with an almost disappointed sigh. "It goes right to your coding," she said. "Do you feel it?"

He could feel himself absorbing it, the light-headedness fizzing inside him. A pleasant feeling.

He passed her one flask, and took a deep gulp of the other. It tasted more mellow than the Carnival's product, more suited to a Knight's system; stronger, though, and he suddenly wasn't sure if he wanted all this to go to his coding.

Sparx drew an arm around his waist as she brought her flask to her lips. "This is really nice," she said. "I wanna do this again."

"It is," he agreed, and lay back next to her, enjoying the warmth that spread through him. His mind felt fuzzy, and he didn't care; brightly coloured visions seemed to dance before him as he thought, a feeling that he could do anything he liked and he could make a really good plan and top the Academy next test period...

"And I like doing it with you," she said, and the hand on his waist seemed to tighten. "Don't you like being here, Avraam?"

"Of course I do," he said. "It's just a pity Ilia wasn't here with us."

"Yeah. Poor Ilia," she said, and then she sat up, looking down at his face. "I really do feel sorry she couldn't make it. I really am, you know? Except I really don't mind, you know, being with you instead. Do you mind?"

"No," he said, slightly bemused by her tone of voice.

She took another sip of the whisky, and then turned back to him. "I like you. You know? You're a real nice guy."

"Thanks. You're a really nice girl," he said. "Nicer than anyone else in our year--in the Academy," he corrected, feeling expansive. He didn't have many friends beside her, and she was wonderful.

"So you like me?" She dropped down onto his chest, her face just inches from his.

He frowned. "Yeah, I like you."

"That's nice." She wriggled into a more comfortable position atop him, lying over his arm, and then didn't say anything.

"Sparx? Could you move off my elbow?" he asked her after a while when she didn't move. "Please?"

She looked startled. "You said you liked me."

"Yes. Just not on my arm."

"I don't care," she said, her eyes taking on the angry glitter familiar to him. "I like you. Really. Really like you."

It took a while for her meaning to sink in. "Oh," he said. "I mean, I, uh..."

"Do you like Ilia instead?" she asked. "She's prettier 'n me. And she's--she's a nice girl--" She sniffed almost tearfully.

"No, I don't," he said, truthfully. "Ilia's a friend."

She smiled blissfully. "Good," she said, and reached for the first button of his uniform jacket. "Because you're pretty too. And you're a guy. I like guys."

It took him a few seconds to figure out what she was doing. "Sparx, what are--"

She paused mid-button. "We're drunk," she said, "and I think I'm more drunk than you are only that's okay because I can probably handle it better than you, and we're in your room and we're on your bed." She sat back on her haunches, away from him. "So take off your top before I blast you already."

He stared at her. "Sparx. I'm not sure this is a--good idea--"

"I said I liked you! And this is what you're supposed to do when you're drunk. I wanna--wanna have some fun for once!"

He sat up, gathering his jacket around him. "We might get caught. There might be--consequences--" He blushed slightly. "Maybe...later, with...er, precautions..."

"That's just an excuse!" She shoved him back down, her strength pinning him to the bed. "Trust me. I've got that covered."

She pulled down the waistband of her pyjamas on one side, displaying regulation-issue white underwear and the metal band around her right leg, bare without the attachment she wore over her uniform. "You're not supposed to know. But they don't just give us girls these for some extra help in battle. It's also in case--well, they don't say it but they're probably thinking in case an evil gets uppity--and anyway it'll work just as well here." She let the waistband slip back up. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

"I won't," he said, not sure of what else he could say to that.

"Goody," she said, and shed her own top, her breasts bouncing slightly in the grey sports bra which encased them.

He felt himself starting to grow aroused almost despite himself as she bent over him again, almost thrusting her cleavage into his face as she went for his top.

"C'mon," he heard her mutter. "Stupid buttons--" And then she shoved him back. "Do it yourself," she said. "Take it off."

He did so, slowly; underneath he wore only a singlet, and felt self-conscious about his lack of muscle compared to so many other male (and some female) Lightning Knights.

"You're real slow," she said, and reached for him, laughing like a wild thing as she grabbed his singlet and ripped the flimsy material from top to bottom. "You look nice," she said, bending down to examine his chest. "Not too hairy." She looked down further, and drew back, looking back up into his face. "Uh..."

"If you just want to rest that's fine too," Avraam said hurriedly, trying to stop himself from blushing in humiliation at her appraisal. "No pressure."

"No," she said, pushing him down again. "It's supposed to be easier when you're drunk and after the first time. So if you think I'm backing down you can take that and shove it where the energy don't..."

He felt her undoing his belt, and then pushing down his pants; he wanted to cringe from her, but still felt his erection pressing into the cold air.

And then she studied him again, her face inscrutable; eventually she looked up at him again, almost nervously. "I should take off mine, too," she said, and reached behind herself for her bra. "D'you think you could help with the strap?" she asked, turning around and presenting her back to him. "It's just clips."

He reached up, fumbling with it; it was a skill he'd eventually planned to learn, he supposed. She sighed, her back moving--she had a few freckles there as well, he couldn't help noticing, and wondered when she'd gone sunbathing. "Hurry up," she said as he finally realised how the clips fitted together, and he nervously finished unhooking it. She had no obvious break in freckles where the strap had fitted across her back; the sunbathing image morphed into a naked sunbathing image, and he instinctively tried to banish the thought before he realised that under the circumstances it was pointless.

She turned around to face him, stretching, and when he raised his eyes to her face he saw her grinning, though her cheeks were slightly red. "I guess you, uh, like that," she said, her eyes flickering down to his anatomy.

Before he could formulate a reply to that one, she had bent down, placed her face across his, and opened her mouth over his.

It was nothing like the chaste, attractive kisses you saw on the screens at the end of adventure vids; it was as though she was attempting to consume him, her tongue wet and heavy as it sought inside his mouth. He could taste the strong alcohol on her breath.

Belatedly, he supposed he should reciprocate. She withdrew, staring down at him. "You could try kissing back, you know," she said. "Are you too drunk?"

"No," he said helplessly.

"You could touch my breasts," she said. "I've heard that helps."

"What's your source?" he asked. She had...surprisingly big breasts, dangling at an odd-seeming angle without support, with oddly brownish (well, he'd only thought they were usually pink) nipples.

"Oh, you know. The sort of soppy books I wouldn't tell Ace I read." She shrugged. "It always goes the same way. This is the warm-up part."

She bent her face to his again, and he awkwardly reached up to stroke the side of her cleavage. As the kiss continued, both of them snatching quick, light breaths in between their mouths meeting, he trailed his hand to the centre of her breast, brushing his fingers atop the nub of flesh.

She pushed away from him. "That actually kinda tickles," she said. "I guess you're not doing it right."

"What counts as doing it right?" he asked. Maybe she'd know, being the one who possessed them in the first place.

"Dunno. Maybe I should try on yours." She bent down over his chest, lightly running her tongue across his skin.

At least he'd managed to pass the health class with the unit in massage therapy. He reached up to her back, kneading between her shoulderblades.

"You're sorta...salty," she muttered, worrying at his skin like an eager cannibal. He had started to feel her teeth. "Keep doing that, that's actually okay."

He...liked touching her, he thought, over the freckles between her shoulderblades. She sounded appreciative, and he was relieved to be doing something right. Though she was all but biting now, and that was more of an endurance trick for him.

"Sparx..." he moaned as she continued to touch him, her hands running along her sides and into the gaps between his ribs. He felt her lips curl into a smile at that. And then the pressure on him increased; he could feel teethmarks being carved into his skin, around his nipple. He tried to keep ignoring it, but it was finally too much--was she piercing the skin? He couldn't tell. He let out a cry of pain, and she stopped and looked up at him slightly accusatorily.

"That...hurt," he muttered sheepishly.

She punched him in the shoulder, and giggled. "Wimp," she said. She rolled away from him. "I guess that's enough," she said.

He frowned slightly, bemused. "Er, okay. Goodnight, I guess."

"I didn't mean that." She looked almost like she was going to punch him again, but seemed to decide otherwise. "Turn around--no, don't bother, you're going to see me anyway." She determinedly slid down her pyjama pants and underwear in a single movement. "Okay, I guess that was enough warming up. Um."

Her cheeks had reddened again as she lay next to him, flat on the bed. Her legs were beautiful; her thighs were toned, and the scrapes and bruises made her skin look the more real for being imperfect. And she was beautiful--there, he couldn't help thinking, because after all it wasn't like Lightning Knights did anything at all to encourage this sort of thinking, with short red curls like twisted wool.

"I'm cold," she said. She reached out and pulled him to lie on top of her; the stronger of the two, she pushed his face into hers once again. "I'm tired," she said when she'd let him go, "but that's just the alcohol, I bet. We'd better do it."

He felt her legs spread out below him, and blood seemed to depart from his head to...less reputable parts (Zoar, thinking like this was not helpful under the circumstances).

He looked at her face; she seemed to have set her teeth almost grimly, waiting for him.

"Sparx? You--you're okay with this?" He felt like he'd just come off a massive power surge, but one that had left him completely uncertain of what he should do.

"Duh." Her grip on his arms increased; he dimly hoped she wouldn't leave bruises. "It's...kinda supposed to hurt, but just once, and I'm pretty athletic anyway. I like you, Avraam."

There...wasn't anything there, he thought panicking as he tried to obey her. How...

"Um. Up a bit, I think. No, to the right--your left, sorry. Down a bit. Can't you get it right?"

Her eyes held that particular glitter again. This was one torment he didn't feel he could get through.

"Right." She reached for him somewhat awkwardly. "Feels strange. C'mon..."

She was...warm. This was different, new, exciting...

"Ow!"

He paused in shock. He hadn't meant to hurt her, at all, and he could feel her fingernails almost piercing his thigh as she held him.

"I said, keep going!" Her fingernails dug further in, and her arm around his torso tightened. "You--owZoarbloodyoblivion..."

"Sparx!" She almost frightened him, now, with her intense eyes and strength.

"No--do it!" Both her hands were pinned to his thighs now, holding him to her. "Ow--yes--"

He didn't want to stop at this point; her squeezing him could have been painful or even gravely upsetting had he felt saner, but it was different to anything else he'd experienced, her warm body against and around him, taking the capacity for coherent thought...

"Okay! Enough!" She pushed him away suddenly as she said it; he complied immediately, hoping she'd--she'd forgive him.

He'd lost the ability to hold himself; he came to a gasping climax as she watched, feeling shamed.

She grimaced. "That's kinda eww."

"Sparx--I'm sorry--I didn't mean--"

She got up suddenly, finally letting him go. "I need a shower," she said.

He heard the water running for a long time as he sat there, his hands resting loosely across his bruises, until he bothered to get dressed again and strip the bed. He was tired too, drained; it felt almost as bad as a battle, numbing and depressing.

Eventually, the water slowed to a halt and stopped, and she came out, wearing his dressing-gown and looking extremely miserable.

"It wasn't supposed to be like that." She sat next to him, and wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. "Zoar damnit. I just wanna go to bed now and forget about it."

"It's okay," he told her, patting her back as best he could. "Sparx, it's..."

"You weren't doing it right," she said. "I feel so--so stupid."

"I'm sorry," he said again, feeling useless.

"Never mind," she said. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked at his face. "Still friends?"

He kept stroking her back, because he felt he should. "Of course," he said. "I...think we might work better that way."

"Yeah, I guess," she said. "You really want to just be friends?"

"I...think you're a beautiful person, Sparx," he said. "I just think it's...better. Like you said. We're friends."

This experience wasn't one he wanted to repeat any time soon, anyway.

"You've prob'ly got that right, anyway," she said. She stood up, drawing his dressing-gown about herself like royal robes. "Goodnight, Avraam. I'll see you around."

He lay back, drained, and then went to find plasters for the small cuts on his body.

--

A/N: Feedback and concrit very much appreciated.