(no subject)
Sep. 16th, 2009 08:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
summer_sparrowTitle: hero of district 9
Pairing: Tania/Koobus
Word Count: 880
Warnings: Dubcon, character death, AU
Rating: R
Notes: Birthday fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thekayla. Porn for your newly-legal self! :D
Summary:
-Koobus is hailed as a hero.
He doesn't fight for glory or honor. Koobus wages war because he likes it. Regardless, he's content to let the masses call him savior, hero. He fought the prawns. He destroyed the traitor, they say. They think. Never mind that a body was never found.
He bears more scars from that desperate encounter than from all those before it, dark reminders of failure.
He suppresses those thoughts, shoves them roughly to a dark, segregated corner of his mind. Winkus Van De Merwe no longer exists. Koobus has won. It's enough.
It should be enough.
---
There are many speeches as the prawns are removed to District 10. Koobus attends them all, eyeing the protesters on the fringes with disdain.
He eyes blond hair with equal disdain but more than a little attraction; revenge whispers that darkest part of him; feels a thrill at the thought of navigating that treacherous path. It would erase his failure, having that woman; and it would be fun. It would take skill. Tania stands by her father, eyes red, beautiful nonetheless. Koobus forms his strategy: pain she is full of, but gentleness will break her heart.
Koobus appreciates a hunt.
---
The first step is the easiest by far: he comes up behind them after the speech, silent as death, all smiles and charm. In front of her father, Tania can’t gather herself to refuse.
A week later he takes her to a restaurant, fancy and expensive, hoping to cut through her quiet mourning. She eats silently, listening to his (considerably whitewashed) stories, blue eyes wide and blank.
Koobus watches her, completely confident in his plan. He lets his gaze linger on the dip of her cleavage, the soft curve of her pale shoulder. He thinks of marking that fragile skin.
----
A faint movement in shadows sends Koobus into full alert. He could almost swear it was prawn-like, the way the darkness skitters and shifts. A hard glance shows nothing, but he remains wary.
Tania fear makes her malleable. And she is willing. She expects a hotel, but he wants the satisfaction of taking her in her own bed. Small sounds of protest escape her when she recognizes the route he takes; none at all when he slides his calloused hand under her skirt. He is slow and soft and completely unlike himself: to break her, he has to fix her.
---
Koobus teases her from doorstep to bed, fingers and mouth trailing hot along her skin. She responds unwillingly, unhappily, but Koobus doesn't require her love, merely pleasure.
She's nothing like his type, and she's nothing to him but a vessel. It's vengeance that makes him hard against her thigh, not the forlorn sounds of pleasure she makes. It's been months since the incident in District 9, and he doubts Van Der Merwe ever had the balls to touch her like this in the first place, the gentle intrusion of tongue and fingers until she almost weeps with desire. His impulse is to be rough with her, to vent all his fury, but he restrains himself to a harshness that can be justified by desire.
He ignores her cry of protest when they tumble to the bed, in favor of pinning her. Kisses silence her mouth; he wants no noise from her. What he does want, he takes, tugging her panties aside and sliding his cock into her, foreplay abandoned. Koobus knows this kind of woman; he knows that this will earn him a return to her bed, night after night.
His confidence is confirmed by her response to his harsh thrusts, moans and fingernails upon his back and body bucking hard against his. She comes loudly, he silently, spilling into her with a few final shoves.
Koobus prides himself that he is prepared for anything, but the crash and tinkle of shattering glass while he's still deep inside a woman is something unexpected.
----
Koobus is on his feet, in fighting stance; pure instinct. He faces the prawn squarely, staring it down while he mind sorts through the potential weapons in the room.
He expects it to come for him. He's famous by now as a hunter of its kind. Instead it crouches, staring at Tania with something he might, in a human, call concern. The woman is too stupid to move, or too foolish to face truth, for he hears her soft, broken whisper: "Wikus."
The prawn bows its head, voicing shameful, inarticulate clicks.
Koobus wastes no time. He lunges for a lamp, and strikes.
---
Koobus has never really contemplated death. When he thought of it at all, he imagined a glory of violence: in the depth of battle, guns and grenades.
He never imagined death as a snap of prawn claw to his neck, as a slow bleed of life his hands are unable to stem.
He certainly never imagined his last sight would be a woman turning to the arms of a prawn, instead of running to his side. Perhaps the creature really is Wikus, he thinks, for it holds her gently as she weeps.
It's unfair, demeaning, this is just so wrong want to go...
Pairing: Tania/Koobus
Word Count: 880
Warnings: Dubcon, character death, AU
Rating: R
Notes: Birthday fic for
thekayla. Porn for your newly-legal self! :DSummary:
-Koobus is hailed as a hero.
He doesn't fight for glory or honor. Koobus wages war because he likes it. Regardless, he's content to let the masses call him savior, hero. He fought the prawns. He destroyed the traitor, they say. They think. Never mind that a body was never found.
He bears more scars from that desperate encounter than from all those before it, dark reminders of failure.
He suppresses those thoughts, shoves them roughly to a dark, segregated corner of his mind. Winkus Van De Merwe no longer exists. Koobus has won. It's enough.
It should be enough.
---
There are many speeches as the prawns are removed to District 10. Koobus attends them all, eyeing the protesters on the fringes with disdain.
He eyes blond hair with equal disdain but more than a little attraction; revenge whispers that darkest part of him; feels a thrill at the thought of navigating that treacherous path. It would erase his failure, having that woman; and it would be fun. It would take skill. Tania stands by her father, eyes red, beautiful nonetheless. Koobus forms his strategy: pain she is full of, but gentleness will break her heart.
Koobus appreciates a hunt.
---
The first step is the easiest by far: he comes up behind them after the speech, silent as death, all smiles and charm. In front of her father, Tania can’t gather herself to refuse.
A week later he takes her to a restaurant, fancy and expensive, hoping to cut through her quiet mourning. She eats silently, listening to his (considerably whitewashed) stories, blue eyes wide and blank.
Koobus watches her, completely confident in his plan. He lets his gaze linger on the dip of her cleavage, the soft curve of her pale shoulder. He thinks of marking that fragile skin.
----
A faint movement in shadows sends Koobus into full alert. He could almost swear it was prawn-like, the way the darkness skitters and shifts. A hard glance shows nothing, but he remains wary.
Tania fear makes her malleable. And she is willing. She expects a hotel, but he wants the satisfaction of taking her in her own bed. Small sounds of protest escape her when she recognizes the route he takes; none at all when he slides his calloused hand under her skirt. He is slow and soft and completely unlike himself: to break her, he has to fix her.
---
Koobus teases her from doorstep to bed, fingers and mouth trailing hot along her skin. She responds unwillingly, unhappily, but Koobus doesn't require her love, merely pleasure.
She's nothing like his type, and she's nothing to him but a vessel. It's vengeance that makes him hard against her thigh, not the forlorn sounds of pleasure she makes. It's been months since the incident in District 9, and he doubts Van Der Merwe ever had the balls to touch her like this in the first place, the gentle intrusion of tongue and fingers until she almost weeps with desire. His impulse is to be rough with her, to vent all his fury, but he restrains himself to a harshness that can be justified by desire.
He ignores her cry of protest when they tumble to the bed, in favor of pinning her. Kisses silence her mouth; he wants no noise from her. What he does want, he takes, tugging her panties aside and sliding his cock into her, foreplay abandoned. Koobus knows this kind of woman; he knows that this will earn him a return to her bed, night after night.
His confidence is confirmed by her response to his harsh thrusts, moans and fingernails upon his back and body bucking hard against his. She comes loudly, he silently, spilling into her with a few final shoves.
Koobus prides himself that he is prepared for anything, but the crash and tinkle of shattering glass while he's still deep inside a woman is something unexpected.
----
Koobus is on his feet, in fighting stance; pure instinct. He faces the prawn squarely, staring it down while he mind sorts through the potential weapons in the room.
He expects it to come for him. He's famous by now as a hunter of its kind. Instead it crouches, staring at Tania with something he might, in a human, call concern. The woman is too stupid to move, or too foolish to face truth, for he hears her soft, broken whisper: "Wikus."
The prawn bows its head, voicing shameful, inarticulate clicks.
Koobus wastes no time. He lunges for a lamp, and strikes.
---
Koobus has never really contemplated death. When he thought of it at all, he imagined a glory of violence: in the depth of battle, guns and grenades.
He never imagined death as a snap of prawn claw to his neck, as a slow bleed of life his hands are unable to stem.
He certainly never imagined his last sight would be a woman turning to the arms of a prawn, instead of running to his side. Perhaps the creature really is Wikus, he thinks, for it holds her gently as she weeps.
It's unfair, demeaning, this is just so wrong want to go...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-19 02:23 am (UTC)This is a wonderful take on a pairing I'd never even considered (somehow, as I'm usually pairing off everyone XD)and, well, it ended exactly how I'd hoped it would. Great job.