RSA Main Fiction by Title Fiction by Author Fiction by Partners Slash Subplots Familiar Faces Links

Extasis, Part Nine

Reply to Scynneh or visit her website

Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list February 28, 2001

Extasis 9/?
Author: Scynneh
Disclaimer: I don't own that mop of hair that Michael is currently sporting, and I'm broke. Let me have my fun- my prescription hasn't been filled yet. Beware.
Dedications: Melissa gives me wondiferous feedback, and Jennifer's prompting made me finish this bit up. Yes, there is more, I have to coax it out you two. But thanks lots for encouragement! *laughing maniacally* It's my universe and I'll do what I want who I want to...
Spoilers: AU. Totally, I'm not joking here.
Rating: Not yet overly smutty, but that shall happen, or be or whatever, we shall see, damn, more accidental rhymage...didn't mean to...

There are situations that cry out for patience and understanding. This is not one of them.

A young woman may strive for purity by quiet devotion, and the accepted practice for that breed is to 'go to the Temple live in a shack on the beach with the cynics and generally be unimportant and any earthly possessions.' But none of that matters because poverty is spiritual prosperity. Maids are good, well-intentioned, and occasionally blundering.

Like my slave for a beauti-fuckable example; dear girl had thus far been able to relegate my wants to the back of her mind, thanks to Tess' interference. But now that my bitch was down for the count, the ring was open, and I was still up and ready to go. Had been ever since my randier parts had felt the rippling of her aura in that barroom.

She reminded me of a retiring young heroine on the cover of one of those ancient Terran novels, a 'bodice ripper' Tess called them. I didn't care about what they were called, so long as the little lady dressed up with the thought in mind that I would be ripping it off later on. A pneumatic blond, tumbling out of her gown, about to be ravished by a buccaneer, a sea captain, a South Sea native, even a 'damn Yankee', all of whom bore a startling resemblance to Fabio. The quality of the piece varied inversely with the amount of raw lust displayed tastelessly to the public, and I found that this rule could often be applied to individuals that I encountered.

As it is with towns that are uncultivated, education will not occur until education is pried out of the prudish hands belonging to ignorance, and previously unheard of avenues are torn open for exploration.

Speaking of plowing onwards; it appeared as if a certain new member of my 'family' was about to reconsider escaping as opposed to being slowly wooed. It wasn't perhaps the soundest choice she'd made in her lifetime, but I was willing to allow this show of spirit- if for all of three seconds.

That was all the time I needed to change my mind about being pleasant and just saw into her like I was interested in setting up house. I felt like the embodiment of all things male and needy; like a giant black hole ever reaching for some sort of satisfaction, not finding enough to fill up that gap between realizations of emptiness. Maybe this time that elusive contentment would reach out to find me, not the other way around. And as I separated my sated body from Tess' and began to pad over in the direction of further gratification, I could almost hear the dialogue that changed her image of me. From something not tangible; and therefore scary but yet still gently in the fringes of her perception, to a thing of flesh that could not be dismissed or reasoned out of its chosen path. I knew that she was wondering how to run away, because it seemed the wiser path, the more impossible dream, but still, if I didn't dash a girl's hopes and replace them, with something so much better, what would be the point? And, what mattered more was that I enjoyed things much more this way.


He moved over the all-too-small distance between us in a way that I didn't really know how to articulate. Not animal exactly, there were no claws or dripping teeth, slavering tendencies, or rivulets of drool visible, but the feeling was inhuman.

Brilliant deduction Maria, I scolded myself. Not a human means alien, and that's what these two are. Get. A. Clue. Most carbon-based life forms follow codes that are universal, laid down millennia ago by the laws of some timeless and easily distracted being. I theorize that the gods are rarely amused by anything for a lengthy amount of time, and so it is a contest among them to find the most entertaining creature out there to hold their attention. Obviously, something in my genetic makeup has drawn them to me, and I am still an object of some fascination.

Why, one might ask, would they be so wowed by my life? I'm betting on my monumental run of bad luck that began at roughly the moment of my birth. My mother always told me that a girl who looked at boys would come to a bad end, or 'her end', as she put it. I'd be interested to know if she found herself in my shoes, what would her reaction be. Most likely she would try and entice Rath into purchasing some of her strange pottery, she used to sculpt whatever came to mind, more than once it was whatever invaded our little town and decided that what was left wasn't worth keeping. Maudlin thoughts; my mom was a flake, great woman for taking photos of with tourist 'see the eccentric human', but nothing in the way of a decent guardian or teacher.

But enough moping about how bad my life has been, it's time to focus on what is going to come.

Continue to Part Ten

Return to Top