I wanted to tell him that was because we were standing in the middle of a deluge like a couple of mortals, too stupid to come in out of the weather, but I held back the impulse; Strife had his cryptic moments.

"Deimos," he breathed my name, settling his chin on my shoulder. "You're too pretty when you're wet."

Well, that was straightforward enough; I grinned. "You're all romantic today, cuz," I said, drumming my fingers on the back of his hands. His skin was cool from the rain, but he still felt so hot to me.

"Mmm, it's the atmosphere," he agreed, nuzzling my cheek.

My grin widened. "Oh yeah." Funny how deep my voice can get when he starts pushing my buttons. "Nothing like a good slaughter to get the mood right, huh?"

The battlefield sprawled before us, an exquisite panorama of contorted, stiffened bodies, blood soaked ground, and carrion birds feasting, the smell dulled to a soft, sickly-sweet scent by hours of rain. Strife tilted his head and licked my ear.

"You're as sweet as death, Deimos."

I almost moaned; the things he said to me.... "You've got a wicked tongue," I said, leaning back into him. A small movement, a surrender. Like we were ever going anywhere else with this.

He laughed, a deep chuckle that reverberated through his body, I could feel it move through him. And then I could feel cool air on my chest and arms as my leathers melted away off of me, falling away to the muddy ground at our feet. It was a thick, gritty paste, oozing through my now bare toes, cool, cold to the touch, but warming the more it touched me. It made a good enough cushion when Strife drew me down. A soft, just rotting limb as a pillow, blood drenched mud as our mattress, and Strife, naked and wet, bracing himself over me as a blanket.

In the dim, overcast light, through the thick fall of rain, Strife's pale skin was like a bright beacon, drawing my gaze, my hands. His flesh was so slick it was like touching a ghost, if ghosts were hot enough to burn at a touch. His skin should've been like ice, mine probably felt like it, but where leather had covered him before he was so deliciously warm. The rain drove down hard around us and I couldn't get a grip on him, so I had to settle for stroking touches, over his shoulders and chest, feeling hard muscles flex beneath my fingers. He remained on his hands and knees above me, looking down at me with a hunger that made me ache.

"You're beautiful, lying there naked and waiting for me, all sharp angles and lines. I'm going to cut myself on you, Deimos, bleed all over." His voice was low and so deep, a visceral sound that drove the ache inside me to another level of intensity.

Strife's hair was hanging down, water dripping from the black strands into my face, but I couldn't look away from him, away from eyes paler than ice and lit from within by blue flame. His lips were parted slightly and I could just see a hint of pink tongue. I wanted to reach up to him, draw him down to me, taste those lips, catch his tongue with mine, but I just lay there, watching, my body shaking with want.

"Say something for me, Deimos," he whispered.

I shook my head, not denying him but just not knowing what to say, or even how to say it. My hands had fallen to my sides but they itched to grasp at him, twitching with a need I couldn't voice. "I--I...can't." That voice sounded far too breathy to be mine. I wanted to spread my legs then, offer myself to him, but I was caught between his knees, at his mercy, awaiting his pleasure -- and right then it was to hear me speak.

"I--It's just--" I stopped and swallowed hard, licking my lips and tasting rain mixed with old blood. His eyes caught the slight motion, focusing on my mouth, his own lips parting wider on a sharply indrawn breath. Strife wanted me, and even if he didn't tremble with the need the way I did, I could see it in his expression, that barely leashed desire. I did that to him, made him want, made him hard. And that gave me the control I needed.

"Strife." My hand shook as I reached up to trace a finger over his lower lip. "You make me forget how to speak." The truth, it hung there between us with delicious tension as his long fingers closed around my wrist. His hand was slick with reddish mud, a drop sliding down my arm. He pressed his lips to my palm, an almost chaste kiss, but so intimate in meaning that my breath caught in my throat.

When he released me, it wasn't to kiss my mouth as I'd hoped, but to sit up. Without him braced over me, the rain came down hard on my face and chest. My legs had long since grown used to the icy sting of the drops, but it was a shock on once-protected flesh. It might even have made me go soft, if not for Strife's hand closing around me, stroking me, friction and hunger overcoming temperature. I was pushing up into his grasp when his other hand coming to rest on my stomach warned me to be still.

He went absolutely motionless for a moment, just looking down at me, gaze sliding over my face like a physical caress. Then he moved -- and my eyes snapped shut, my hands moving up sharply to try and grasp at his hips, his thighs. Somehow I found purchase, digging broken nails in deep and trying not to thrust as he lowered himself; if he'd wanted that I would've been the one on top.

He took me in slow, so very, very tight around me and so hot it nearly burned. Slick from his hand, I slid in easily, although it took long moments before I was finally buried fully inside him. It felt like my pulse had moved way south and was pounding away there, a throbbing that resounded through my entire body. I was taut beneath him, shaking with the need to move, to thrust up, pound into him until I came, but I wanted to wait until he was ready, until he was finished watching me want him.

I didn't have to see him to know he was still watching me, he never stopped. His fingers were spread on my stomach, his knees clamped around my hips, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. I wanted to see his expression, to see if his desire was reflected in his expression as much as mine probably was, but I couldn't make myself open my eyes.

Strife moved, as slowly as when he'd first taken me inside him. A gentle rocking motion, but one that seemed to hit just the right spot for him, I could hear his soft gasp, feel his legs tremble. I lay there and just let him ride me, fingers clenching and unclenching on his thighs, wanting to kiss him, taste some part of him, and not having the breath to ask.

His low gasps and moans were a subtle, rhythmic counterpoint to the sound of rain coming down around us; why it didn't sizzle when it touched us, I don't know, because I burned. The heat of him, of Strife around me, his hands braced on my chest as he pushed down on me again and again; I felt it in me, that clawing fever of need, scalding me from the inside out. Everything was sensation, crashing over me with every movement Strife made; I didn't need to see, couldn't have made my eyes open even if I'd wanted to. The only control I seemed to have was focused on keeping my grip on his thighs; I had to hang on to something, it felt like, or I'd break apart beneath him.

My fingers were wet with more than rain as I dug into his slick, hot skin, rocking up into him as he pushed down against me. I ached, throbbed from the inside out with a need that left me no room to breathe. Sparks were dancing behind my closed eyelids and I didn't know if it was from lack of air or from the way Strife rode me, the whimpering gasps that seemed to be dragged from him above me. I wanted to hear more of those soft sounds, feel him around me for hours, maybe forever, but then he came down on me, tightening, clenching, and I broke anyway, crashing to pieces with a harsh scream, ripped from my throat. He rocked faster, deliberately drawing it out for me as I shook uncontrollably under him. My hips snapped up repeatedly, trying to bury myself inside him as deep as I could go even as the heat slammed through me, making me scream again. It bordered pain, sensation so intense it went beyond pleasure and left me hoarse and breathless.

Only when the last of the aftershocks had rolled through me, making me whimper and jerk helplessly, did I manage to pry my eyes open. Even the twilight, dimmed by the clouds, made me wince after having my eyes clenched so tightly shut. Strife was still watching me, eyes half closed in pleasure as he continued to rock himself on me, slowly or I might've slipped out of him. It wouldn't be enough for him, no matter how good it felt, I knew that and I wanted to see him as he'd just seen me.

My arm felt leaden as I lifted it, but I kept it steady as I reached down and wrapped my hand around him. Hot and thick in my grasp, he cried out, his body shuddering. Just one long, slow stroke and I had him -- and it was beautiful to watch.

Strife's eyes went wide and he stared down at me, something, some emotion held there I couldn't name. It never waned, though, that look, the intensity of it, even as deep tremors racked his body. For all the heated sounds he'd made before, he was silent now, mouth open but no sound coming out. His knees clamped down brutally around my hips, nails digging into my chest as mine had into his thighs; we both bled as he spilled over my hand and stomach, a warmth that faded quickly as rain washed it away.

He was gasping above me, trembling as he struggled to stay upright. I was starting to notice the cold, the mess covering us that even the rain couldn't totally get rid of; I was starting to think we should move the fun elsewhere, someplace warm and dry, when Strife came down on me. He just sort of fell, landing hard enough to drive the breath out of me. But I had to giggle, even if I didn't have any air to make a sound. The shaking of my body, the silent laughter, caught his attention enough for him to tilt his head up against my shoulder. He didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow.

I grinned at him and finally found some air. "You're always knocking the breath out of me one way or another, cuz." I slid an arm loosely around his back.

Strife smirked, a small, satisfied expression. "I know."

His lips pressed against my throat, and the rain continued to fall.