Scalpels

Their first meeting was uneventful, as was their first conversation.

Their first mission together was a bust.

“I cannot believe that they just gave in like that.  All of them!”  Proxima exclaimed.

“Uncanny, indeed.  And curious.  I did not expect such… coordination.”

It was the first mission that Corvus Glaive and Proxima Midnight had been paired together on.  Thanos had demanded a tribute from Aldegan, a small planet in the system Sanctuary was currently passing through.  The planet, though tiny, was a high priority for the Magus, and Thanos was determined to rid of him of any able-bodied converts.

They had landed as usual, with Corvus addressing their leadership council.  But when they came back a day later, to collect the tribute or to bathe the planet in its own blood, they had found no life forms.

Further exploration had revealed that every last humanoid being on the planet, all ages, had killed themselves.

“But that blind faith is likely what drew the Magus to them to begin with.”  Proxima noted.

Corvus nodded.

Proxima observed her companion as he continued to pilot their ship towards the docking station in Sanctuary.  They had worked alongside each other for almost two years at this point, but somehow had never been sent out alone.  If the Dreadlords were not running solo missions, Corvus and Black Dwarf teamed together, the brothers working in tandem like a well-oiled machine, while Proxima and the Ebony Maw stayed a pair, their time in Butcher Squadron serving them well.

But this time around, the Maw was holed up in his lab, working on improvements for Gamora’s cybernetics, and Dwarf had been sent out on a supply run. Which had left her and Corvus to do what needed to be done.

Proxima enjoyed his companionship, and they had shared many a long conversation together.  There were even a few times where she, drunk out of her wits from their card game, and Corvus would stay at the table long after the others went back to their racks.  His regenerative abilities meant that he sobered up much more quickly than she did, but he never left her, even when the talk turned incoherent.  They was a certain solidarity she felt with him, even stronger that the comforts of her friendship with the Maw.

But now, she was a buzzing ball of energy.  She had been prepared for a planetary slaughter, and her adrenaline had yet to come down.  So when they had finally docked on Sanctuary and Corvus had proposed a quick spar to burn some energy, she could hardly say no.  Together, they walked off to report their findings to Thanos before making their way to one of the training areas.

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“No weapons, ten seconds on the floor or off of the mats to win. “

“As you wish, my lady Midnight.”

And with an unsettling grin on his face, he charged at her, shoulders down.  She absorbed the tackle, rolling backwards to her feet with a huff of breath.  They exchanged punches and kicks for a few moments, neither one landing a meaningful blow until Corvus’s sharp elbow cut into her cheek, just below the line of her helmet.  Her head wretched violently to the side, but she had instinctually swung her opposite arm towards him, and the momentum of her body meant that her metallic forearm cuffed across his neck.

Sputtering and grasping at his throat, he bared his teeth and charged again.  This time he went to the floor with her, rolling around and grappling until she managed to plant one foot on the ground, trapping his body between it and her opposite knee.  His armor pressed into the inside of her thigh as he tried to move, seeking leverage to reverse the hold, and she wasted no time in bringing her fist down to his face, avoiding the sharp glaive fragments.

Proxima got two hits in before he managed to roll her off of him, throwing her away like a rag doll.  They both stood, Proxima whisking away blood from the cut on her cheek while Corvus wiped at his mouth.  With a yell, she lunged at him, catching him off-balance.  Her fists and elbows landed blow after blow on his torso before he thrust a knee up into her stomach.  She bent in half on the impact, and as he threw her across the room again, his forearm guard got caught on a horn, ripping the helmet off of her head.

She landed with a thud on her back, dazed by the whiplash that had come from her headgear’s sudden removal.  And again, he was on her, giving her no time to catch her breath.  Again, they rolled and grappled, and again she came out on top.  This time, instead of raining punches onto him, she pressed her metal forearm into his throat, trying her hardest to choke him out.  She felt him grasp and pull down at her arm, his hips moving under her, desperately seeking air and respite.

And this time when his armor poked into her thigh, she realized it wasn’t his armor at all.

In her moment of surprise, she had lessened the pressure on his throat, allowing him to escape her hold.  Back on their feet, Corvus flew at her with another knee, and she blocked his flurry of kicks, moving backwards until her heel hit the wall.  He used her backward momentum to pin her against the wall, catching a wrist in each hand before she could shift her weight into her punches.

They stood like that for a moment, Corvus pressing Proxima into the cold metal of the training room.  Both of their chests heaved with exertion, and a light sheen of sweat covered Proxima, her cerulean hair sticking to her neck and forehead.

And she wasn’t sure what compelled her to act now of all times, but the next thing she knew, she was closing the small distance between them, smashing her mouth onto his. 

He was still against her, and she pulled away in surprise.  Though his grip on her wrists loosened, he did not release her.  She opened her mouth to say something, anything, stung by what she perceived as rejection, but he searched her yearning eyes quickly, leaned forward, and captured her mouth again.

Their lips moved against each other, his sharp teeth slightly nicking into her lips as their tongues battled for dominance.  She could taste a faint trace of metallic blood, the only remnants of the split lip she had given him moments before.  A warm feeling spread into her stomach, and she desperately pressed her body against his, the ache between her legs growing incessantly.  His hips bumped forward against her, and she moaned a little into his mouth.

He pulled back, and she whimpered at the loss of contact.  Corvus knocked her forehead gently against hers.  “Mine or yours?”  He growled.

“Yours,” she breathed back.  “Unless you would like the Maw as an audience.”

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They stalked to his quarters from the training room, steps moving in tandem, thankfully meeting no one on their way.  When they reached the uppermost deck, he grasped at her hand and pulled her to the left.  She and Maw had rooms on the right wing, while he and Dwarf shared the opposite branch.

As soon as she stepped fully into his room, he slammed the door shut and latched the lock.  Corvus pressed her up against the wall again, resuming their kiss.  But Midnight quickly flipped them around, her hands making quick work of his forearm guards and the plating on his torso.  Her lips frantically moved on his, feeling restless and wanting more and needing him.  He let her do as she pleased, his hands joining hers to push his cloak off and over his head.  A guttural, clicking growl bubbled in his throat as her hands explored, nails raking over his back, palms pressing across his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the sinewy muscle lying under the thin material of his shirt, the lean power he possessed.  Proxima reached the divet of his hips, hesitating for a moment as his breath caught against her mouth.  Then she continued, fingers dipping below the waistband of the pants he wore under his armor.  He hissed as the cold metal of her one hand met his burning hot skin.

Before she could reach her target, he had gripped her around the middle and hauled her over to the bed.  Her legs had instinctively wrapped around his lithe waist, arms clasping around his neck.  As soon as her back hit the mattress, his lips were on hers again.  He trailed down her neck, sucking at the juncture of her shoulder.  Proxima could feel his teeth at her pulse point, his rough tongue playing on her skin, and her hips bucked involuntarily.

His claws tapped on her breastplate inquisitively before finding the closures on the side, working them open and unzipping her suit.  Corvus peeled the material away from her, and then she was completely bare beneath him.  One of his hands moved to her hip, the leathery skin delightfully rugged against her, while the other brushed over her breast, his mouth still working at her neck.

“Corvus,” she gasped out, body on fire as he teased.  She desperately pressed her hips up against his, her wetness grinding onto the bulge in his pants.

His hands reached down to pin her hips to the bed, and she mewled in protest.  And then she was gasping again, as he took a nipple into his mouth, lavishing attention on it, the texture of his tongue causing her to flush even wetter than before.  Proxima reached for his back, growling slightly when her hand met fabric.  She pulled his undershirt off of him, throwing the offending garment over the side of the bed, hands clawing into the sheets under her as Corvus switched his ministrations to her other breast.

There was something about him that was driving her out of her mind, and a sudden thought zipped through her mind; perhaps she had liked, had wanted, more than just his companionship.  And her body was betraying her, reacting to every feather-light touch as if she were feeling it for the first time. 

Which is why, when Corvus reached down between them, fingers boldly knifing in between her legs while his mouth continued to worship her chest, she let out a moan so wanton she surprised herself.  If anything, he seemed to grow more excited, with a growl low in his throat; Proxima felt the vibrations against her skin.  She was overcome with a sudden impatience, snaking her hand down to cup him through the fabric of his pants.  He was bigger than she anticipated, almost like there was an extra firmness to him.

And then she wasn’t sure what happened next and how, but then he was hovering, the tip of him pressed teasingly against her.

And then something even more surprising happened.

She heard herself beg.  It was almost out-of-body, her mouth was moving but she was no longer in control.  “Corvus,” she hissed between her teeth, “please.”

He obliged.

Proxima gasped as he finally entered her, teeth clenching as her body struggled to accommodate his size.  He slowly pushed into her warmth, languishing as he buried himself to the hilt.  “Midnight,” he grunted as she mewled, back arching off of the bed.

And then they only knew each other.

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Proxima breathed in deeply, arm thrown across Corvus’s chest as he lay beside her, eyes closed and breathing even.  She was exhausted, in the best of ways, but knew that she ought to make her way back to her own quarters.  With a quick inhale, she pulled herself up, swinging her legs away to sit on the edge of the bed.

She slipped into her suit, gathering up her armor, before sneaking one last look at the sleeping form of Corvus.  As quietly as she could, she snuck out and back to her own rooms.

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“You came back to your rooms awfully late last night, Proxima.”

“Speak plainly, Maw.  It is too early for your games.”  She snapped, hands clutching at the cup of tea like a lifeline.  The buzz of the mess hall only added to her annoyance, as her head dully throbbed, a reminder of her lack of restful sleep.

Ebony Maw took a long sip of his own brew, his milky eyes locked onto her limpid ones.  But before he could respond, a body approached their table.  As the Maw turned away from her to speak with the worker in low tones, her eyes swept the room, taking in the scenes around her.  The pounding in her head was receding as she finished her tea, tuning out the Maw’s conversation.  She knew he would pry into her whereabouts; close friends, they were, but it truly was too early in her day to put up with his incessant need for knowing everything.

Corvus had yet to appear in the mess hall, she noted distractedly, as the Maw excused himself from the table.

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It transpired that she did not see him all that day or the next.  A quick meeting with Thanos had revealed that he had been sent to help Black Dwarf with a particularly rambunctious group of rebels at a nearby trading port.

She felt the lack of his presence more keenly than she would care to admit, and she busied herself with various tasks throughout the days.

Maw cornered her again at dinner on the second day.

“It would be folly to continue on the path you are on.”

“I appreciate your concern, Maw, but forgive me for not immediately accepting your judgment.  Need I remind you of your mutiny?”

“Which seems to have worked out well for us, need I remind you.”

Proxima rolled her eyes.  “Maw, I am free to pursue whomever I please.  And I am equally free to accept the advances of one pursuing me in return.”

Maw’s upper lip twitched.

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He came to her room in the late hours of night, and no sooner did he knock and ask her to join him were they rolling around on his bed together, clothing thrown haphazardly onto the floor in the eagerness.

Proxima’s eyes squeezed shut, and she let out a throaty moan as she finished for the third time that night.  The sensations ripped through her, she felt herself contracting around Corvus, thighs trembling and breathy shaky.  With a low growl, he followed her over the edge with one last violent thrust of his hips.

They slowly extricated themselves from one another, sweaty and tired and pleased.  But as Proxima made a move to sit up, she felt his hand grasp at her metal one.  Puzzled, she craned her neck around to look at him. 

Gently, with far more tenderness than she could have ever imagined Corvus Glaive to possess, he trailed his fingers up her arm, minding his claws as he brushed her long azure strands away from her face.

“Stay.”

It wasn’t quite a command, but it wasn’t quite a question either.

And maybe it was the uncertainty in his golden eyes, the fear of rejection swimming behind his lids, maybe it was the growing warmth in her chest as she received confirmation that his feelings matched hers, or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion that had worn through her bones, a tiredness she had not known was there until he had returned to the ship.  But whatever amalgamation of reasons that convinced her mattered little as she lay back down beside him.

Corvus pulled her leg over his waist, and she automatically moved into his warmth, tucking her head into his arm and lightly holding around his chest.  Like clockwork, her eyes grew heavy as the rhythm of his breathing calmed her, lulling her to sleep. And right before she drifted off, she felt the lightest possible pressure as he kissed her forehead, the corners of her mouth turning up as realized how natural, how right, it all felt.