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How Do You Want It
Her lips...she'd turned. His chest had enveloped her and her arms had hung low, unsure, and she was lost in the moment and then, finally, she turned into him...her arms around his neck, kissing.

Marcus let a little bit go. A taste. She had no idea.

You live once. Only once. The universe will have the priviledge of you only one brief time in its infinite life. Be proud. Do not be ashamed. Do not deny your hunger. A Sith denies nothing. But only as master.- Darth Peritia

Just a taste of him. And then, the fire in her ignites. She comes alive. And for a moment....she blazes. He smiles.

But this is new to her. She has to step back. And the needs of the body- air- outweigh- the needs of the body.

Marcus laughed as she pulled away. He knew. Recoup. Refresh. She was hungry. And she was unacquianted with this kind of hunger. She needed a moment.

Bearings. A check of makeup. And pep talk. All good.

You are pathetic Malik said. Marcus' nostrils flared. Shut the fuck up and let go. I am!, he told him. The laughter drowned out his response. You've never thought this hard. You always let me run it. Why not now?

Marcus had no answer. Why did he need control at this moment? He could be Malik. He would reach his goal. Why did he want to be Marcus now?

He shunted him away. Found drinks in the fridge. That would do. He looked around. Leaning towers of books. Astrophysics. Theoretical physics.

He pulled one, preventing the fall. Flipped through it. Mesmerized, he was captured again by the mathematical beauty that was this universe.

People thought math was numbers. Computations. Algorithms. Rules. No. No no no. Computers computed. Carried the one. Borrowed the ten. Moved the decimal.

They did not meet the multiverse.

It was patterns. Relationships. Connections. Mathemetics was not created. It was discovered. Explorers chancing on islands and archipelogoes, finding kinships with families from home. Learning the language of the universe.

Marcus seized the Force, his slave, and wove fire and earth and air. The flat was dark but for the ambient light.

The language of the universe....

Dots of light began to appear, again and again, a galaxy of stars hanging low and beautiful and drifting through the room.

He would give her the universe.

Candles were so cliche.

And one other thing. His wallet on the counter, the sound filling the room, soft and low, the slow back and forth of The Flamingos.


He smiled at her when she surfaced. Held out a soda.
Dani gasped as she took it all in. It seemed her flat was transformed into a planetarium. Wide eyes drank it all in. “You did this?” She smiled in awe. Marcus was truly magical. It was a wonder she didn’t think of replicating constellations herself, then again, the need never arose in the laboratory.

“You know there was once existed an ancient light that was called the cosmic microwave background. It was imprinted on the sky when the universe was 370,000 years old. This light is seen to us today as tiny temperature fluctuations that correspond to regions of slightly different densities. Each one represented the seeds of all future stars and galaxies of today.”

She accepted the bottle, frosted chill seeping into her fingers as she put it to her lips. The music was enchanting. She’d never heard anything like it before.
In the dark, lit only by the stars and galaxies he had woven, she seemed to float across the sky. The dress, hiding her feet, decorated with diamonds and jewels, only served to heighten the illusion. Her smokey eyes and bright wide smile, hair a halo about her head, completed the tapestry. She was a goddess of the sky.

And Marcus felt something curious. He remembered Elena. A sweet girl from one of the homes. She had taught him Spanish. He hadn't thought of her since Spectra. An entirely different situation. That was cat and mouse, hunter and prey, both of them alternating. It was not the meeting of equals, nor was there respect. It was the casual using of two people jockeying for control.

Elena, though, had been his friend. Only one of a few, if that. Even as Andre looked out for him (and he hadn't thought of Andre in months, he realized), it had been as protector. And protectee, given his sweet naive nature. But Elena...his friend. Nothing more. But nothing less. A glimmer of light in the darkness that was his world.

And then he was gone, off to yet another home. It had been the worst one. And he always wondered what had happened to her. A young pretty girl like that was at the mercy of so many terrible desires. Malik had come to him then. His companion. His other-self. Had taught him strength. Power. Control. And hunger. Malik was what Andre should have been. Malik saved him, had brought him here.

There was something of Elena in her face, in the face of Dr. Danika Zayed. But it was more. Marcus remembered (he actually remembered!) being hopeful. Moments of happiness. That was it. And for some reason, that touched him far more than he'd have imagined.

He felt Malik stir protectively, but he pushed him away. Hope is for fools. Your destiny is your own! The words skittered across his mind but he didn't let them destroy this spark.

She spoke. And he found a smile on his face. As if the universe was her plaything, her mind roaming and fluttering here and there, a butterfly alighting on the beauty that was their world. He walked towards her, careful of her dress, took her in his arms to slowly dance to the music, the two of them floating through galaxies and nebulae and stars. "Does that mean that the state of the universe was set in those moments of long ago?," he asked softly.

He kissed her lips briefly. His voice a whisper. "Was my kiss merely the result of some deterministic calculation set in motion when the universe was born?" He stared into her eyes. "Or is there more?"
So Marcus’ science was all wrong, but the mere attempt made her want to melt. Dani hadn’t the heart to correct him. It was too perfect a moment. In fact, in the next she leaned against his chest, and his arms swarmed over her shoulders and hugged her close. A pivot put her face near his. Plush lips grazed hers. Cords along his neck tensed and moved, then finally, she put it all behind lowered lids and leaned in.

His tenderness was unexpected. In fact, it was Danika that tugged and pulled him along. Her gown soon plummeted to her ankles, but Marcus ensured her warmth. She explored the arc of every muscle, but it was heavy arms that fluttered butterflies in her gut. It was like walking in a nebulous dream: lost and eternal. She never wanted it to end.
She had returned, saw what he had made, and had reverted to the intellectual. He'd understood. She lived in her head. Her flat had said as much. Her body- and what a body it was- neglected and ignored. It saddened him. A Sith was both, embraced both. So he tried, tried to turn bridge the two. Her desire was there. He could feel it.

The smoldering ember had been husbanded, as if hands gently cupped it, shielding it, fuel and oxygen added a little at a time until it began to grow. A flame. A fire. And then a conflagration. The brush of soft lips on his, the dying of words, the speech of her arms around his neck pulling him to her, the feel of her body against his firm and soft.

His fingers were deft and her gown puddled around her feet. She was radiant, her pale white skin glowing amid the stars, contrasting the dark material of her lingerie. A goddess among the stars. A goddess without adoration. Except that today, she had it.

Malik grumbled but he ignored him. He always wanted to run things. But not today. He pulled her to him, enfolded her in his arms, felt the smooth of her back before picking her up, sweeping her legs up, her arms around his neck, and carried her to her bed.

It was her and only her, he saw. Her and only her that existed at this moment. The Force enhanced every touch, the softness of her skin against his chest making the smoothest of silks seem sandpaper; every twitch of muscle, of arm or leg; every movement of head and hands a symphony; the scent of her, fogging his mind.

Malik whispered There is only passion. A lullaby.

Smell her.Taste her. Come to know her as only you can, for she is yours, and she is precious. A song.

She was precious. And she was his.
With a swish, she was lifted from her feet. Her heart might as well rode a helium balloon off into the heavens, for she wanted to float away with him. Nervousness pinched her stomach, but where Marcus led, light wafted alongside to chase away the unknown awaiting in dark bedrooms. She was wildly uncomfortable to the point of only unhinging her anticipation due to Marcus patient coaxing. He was so gentle and tender, she wondered how such a man could exist among what must be the pinnacle of predators roaming the land. A dove among dinosaurs? Yet exist he did, thrived actually. One of them? Was it possible something stirred behind the softness of his eyes? As he wrapped himself around her, expertly working the bindings and clasps, she recalled the man imprisoned in the ballroom by that phasic energy. She’d raced to his side, casting off all fascination and wonder for witnessing the impossible with her own two eyes, surprised by her own protectiveness for a man she had no right to claim romantically. Yet once released of the energy’s focus, Marcus was unleashed. He wielded the dark force expertly, hacking his way through any resistance with barely the swat of a thought. Glimpsed briefly, though his defensiveness was only justified, but the doubt remained. Was the Marcus that coaxed Danika’s inhibitions from her mind like clothes between his fingers the same man as what fought in the ballroom? A silly thought, but the idea was thrilling none the less.

When she smiled around his kisses, she didn’t care.
He relished her smiles, when they came. His lips on hers, salty sweet, the sharp iron tang lingering on the back of his tongue.

He embraced the emotion, all of it, the weakness of vulnerability and the pleasure of control, the pain of solitude and the joy of connection.

Not Malik. He was not Malik at this moment even as Malik whispered in his ear, ever the voyeur, watching from behind.

And Marcus felt....dirty. The innocense before him called to him. Even as he entered her he wanted to posses her, to bring her into his soul. Malik hissed and Marcus felt his betrayal, venom in his heart.

Her lips bit at his as she smiled, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, sharp fingers wrapped tight around his triceps. Pure. Clean.

And Marcus felt ash on his tongue. And Malik seethed in the background.
Danika greedily drank the water Marcus offered. She’d never realized how thirsty she was until this very moment. Cotton balls were stuffed into her head otherwise swimming with alcohol. The water was guzzled in gulps and she wished for more almost immediately. Interestingly, her arms were jello and the pillow was more enticing. In fact, she nestled up against Marcus almost as soon as he crawled back under the sheets (after he found the sheets). His chest rose and fell on steady motions that made her want to rock to sleep, but instead she settled with twining her fingertips around his or sometimes scratching at the mounds of his pecs teasingly. It was a strange sort of excitement that mixed with exhaustion, but the cocktail was appetizing. Whatever this meant for them, for her, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t even know how to behave tomorrow at work – oh she was going to be so hungover, but for now, she was too content to care. Tomorrow could wait.. a few days at least.
It had been a long day. Very long. And emotional. It had seemed the full range had been experienced that evening: joy, rage, fear, humor, and....not love. Never that. But a new connection at least. Or rather...a deepening? What do you think this is? Malik asked. Marcus had no answer.

Danika cuddled up next to him, the warm smoothness of her against his neck and chest, one leg over his. He threw the covers off the other half of his body, already feeling hot. It was always like that in the afterward, the post-coital moments of talk or thought. Fogginess fuzzed his mind but he wasn't going to sleep. Not yet anyway.

The smell of her in his nose, the tickle of her hair against his face. She gently traced lines around his chest with her fingertips, raising goosebumps. Idly, he wondered when she would ask about his scars or his tattoos. They always did. Usually, Malik shrugged them off. But his guard was down tonight. Malik had been pushed to the back. Marcus Well, he was naked and only part of him was covered. But even in his mind, he seemed open.

It was odd. He wasn't sure he liked it. But he embraced it. Experience was experience. And you have a role to play, Malik whispered.
Continued at Elixir of Life
@"Marcus DuBois"

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