Thread: 'The Black' (Travel Thread...Travel Between Planets, etc.)

Name Nickname Jibril Jack Attire Light blue, off the shoulder crochet top with a black cincher, black cargo pants with dark red suspenders, black and blue knee high socks, and black knee high boots with multiple buckles. Weapon double-barrel old world shotgun, old world katana, new age katana, and two hunting knives. Location Charon Trystans Ship Tagging ZaphkielDanikaTrystan Time October 1, 3075 Early evening. Name Nickname Zaphkiel Zack Attire Red tank-top, black cargo pants, dark green suspenders, black shitkickers, and black goggles. Weapon Two old world katanas, two pistols with silencers, and two five inch bone handled daggers. Location Charon Trystans Ship Tagging JibrilDanikaTrystan Time October 1, 3075 Early evening. Stop being such a little bitch, Zaphkiel! Coming from someone as short and- AH - bitchy as you, you're one to talk, Jibril! So?! At least - Ooooh - nevermind! Do-don't stop doing... That ! Aaahh Fuck, Zaphkiel! Jibril growled out his name as his nails tore into her back, pressing in hard enough to just barely cut her skin while also hard enough to leave bruises and red trails in their wake. They were both covered in cuts, blood, and bruises, their knives within arms reach as they coupled against the back wall of their room. Sweat and blood mixed as they fought and fucked, pinning each other while never parting for more than a few mere moments at a time. Zaphkiel's lip was cut while Jibril had a bruise across her cheek, but that was all for facial imperfections that would heal over night. Eventually, Zaphkiel got the upper hand and pinned Jibril to the back wall, her face pressed against it with a knife to her throat as he moved his hips slowly, teasingly, making her practically growl at him in both anger and pleasure. You'll take whatever I give you. Understand? Yanking on her hair, Zaphkiel forced her to look at him, feeling the need to maim and fight start to ebb as their fierce fuck turned into rough lovemaking. They didn't know whether the walls were sound-proof or not but they didn't care and eventually reached the pinnacle of pleasure before intertwining as a bloody, bruised, sated heap of flesh upon their shared bed. Jibril settled in close to her twin, spooning with him as her eyes looked at their entwined hands, hers so small and delicate compared to his. He stroked her hair back from her face, taking the time to kiss all the marks he had left on her body. This is just how it was for them. They didn't know any other way and it made sense since they had never learned to trust anyone but each other and even with the oaths they swore, they never let that trust that found a root to take hold and fester. They could never forgive or forget that Illuminati's 'men in white.' Sounds like we're in a dogfight out here... Jibril said after a bit of silence, having felt the ship roll around during their tumble. Zaphkiel nodded before resting his head on her shoulder, letting out a long breath. The dragons had gone into hiding while their masters had 'fought' but soon came crawling out of their hiding spaces and curled up against Jibril's body, within reach of both Zaphkiel's and her hands. Stroking the little creatures, the pair remained in silence before eventually moving to put on some clothing. They changed into clean clothes much similar to their previous outfits before settling down to review the loot Jibril had salvaged for her own private collection. She rested between Zaphkiel's legs as he sat on the bed, her head resting back against his stomach as he watched her hands work on the different components. As much as he had a fondness for metal, he didn't have her glorified love and understanding of the material. His talents rested more with water. Should we go to the command deck and see if a battle is brewing? Jibril asked after a moment. No. We don't need to see Illuminati dogs with technology they shouldn't have, Zaphkiel replied, moving to lay back on the bed, legs still encasing his twin as she worked. He had felt a presence brush against his mind while he was intimate with Jibril and he wondered if it had been that tracker man. He seemed...so different from the crew and so familiar to him that it wouldn't surprise him if he was a telepath or something. Shutting his eyes, he let his thoughts drift, listening to the sounds of metal and softly whispered breaths.