This really is something to see. Hoskins can't help the thrill that shivers through his blood to see the female raptor humbled like this, finally subdued, at the mercy of everything they intend to do to her.
And what Hoskins feels like doing to her again.
He closes the cell door behind him and steps closer to her bed, eyeing her with enough caution lingering from the last time; his hand stings like all hell, and even if he didn't need stitches for it, there's gonna be a scar there for a nice, long time. She's got a brand new gown, but that doesn't matter much. She's still chained, still drugged, and apparently at the end of her seemingly limitless capacity for defiance.
But still, he can't be too careful. Hoskins decides that a little test might be in order. He approaches her from the end of the cot, and this time he leans slowly over her, looking her prone body up and down. This is almost too easy. He could do anything to her like this. Anything. Maybe one day he'll even be able to take those chains off. Not too soon, though. And to make sure she's as meek and passive as she seems to be, he slides a hand slowly up to squeeze a rough handful of her breast.
+++++
Omega's claws are cracked, his fingers cut and bleeding from the rocks. He'd almost fallen twice: once, thanks to some loose rocks, and again because the shrieking wind gusted so hard that it nearly blew him straight off into the sea. But he clung to the cliffs, using the harsh rocks to brace himself against the unforgiving wind, and he kept going, because he was going to reach Blue or die trying.
And finally, he'd dragged himself over the edge of the cliff, onto flat, solid ground, and he was back on Isla Sorna once more. He would have fought tooth and nail against being dragged back here, and now he couldn't return to it fast enough.
His body could stand to lie there for a minute, catching his breath and blinking salt and wind out of his eyes. But there's no time for that. Omega picks himself up, ignoring the half-dry clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin, and races off into the jungle. He knows exactly where he's going. This is his childhood home, after all.
As soon as he gets close enough, the ugly, human, scientific scents of the compound hit him in an all-too-familiar rush, and memory rolls over him in a nauseating wave. He nearly reels back on pure instinct, the half-buried animal in his mind shrieking at him to turn back, they are the enemy, you can escape, you won't ever go back. But the pull of mate smothers that voice like a dying flame. The CERHA Division compound might as well be Hell on earth, and Omega would still run headfirst into it just to get to Blue.
Under the circumstances, however, that would actually be a very stupid idea.
Omega is not surprised in the least to find the compound heavily guarded by fully-armed ACU, decked out in tactical gear and non-lethals (god, they just never give up). But it's not just tasers and nets -- those are tranquilizer rockets, and he'd bet a pirate's fortune that there's a generous dose of MORO-709 waiting in those payloads. Clearly, they're expecting him. Well, that's touching.
In the old days, he would have run in headfirst. He'd have charged the compound -- maybe from a weak point, maybe picking off a few first, but it would have had all the strategy of a savage creature driven by violence and fury. That won't do his mate any good now. As much as Omega would love to cut a path straight through those bastards, it wouldn't be hard for them to take him down, even if they lost some men along the way.
On the first day they met, Blue warned him against letting hate make him reckless. 'You're giving in to the beast too much, that makes them afraid. Weak fearful prey bands together, becomes strong.' At the time he'd dismissed it as pure ignorance. Now he knows better, and once again it's entirely thanks to her.
For one sharp instant, Omega's heart is gripped tight, and despite all sense of reason, a deadly, howling fury rises up in his chest, white-hot in his blood and flashing behind his eyes. It's a feeling he knows so well, too well, one he's only been able to control under Blue's firm patience and loving touch. They took her from him. Reason or not, they're going to pay for that in blood.
And Hoskins...
Omega clenches his teeth, eyes bright, claws flexing in the shadows of the jungle. He can't go straight through them. They know him, as he used to be. They're expecting him to try it, driven by rage and bloodlust, unable to wait. So, he'll have to try something else.
He jumps quickly to the high branches of the trees and circles the large compound, silent and swift and hidden.
no subject
And what Hoskins feels like doing to her again.
He closes the cell door behind him and steps closer to her bed, eyeing her with enough caution lingering from the last time; his hand stings like all hell, and even if he didn't need stitches for it, there's gonna be a scar there for a nice, long time. She's got a brand new gown, but that doesn't matter much. She's still chained, still drugged, and apparently at the end of her seemingly limitless capacity for defiance.
But still, he can't be too careful. Hoskins decides that a little test might be in order. He approaches her from the end of the cot, and this time he leans slowly over her, looking her prone body up and down. This is almost too easy. He could do anything to her like this. Anything. Maybe one day he'll even be able to take those chains off. Not too soon, though. And to make sure she's as meek and passive as she seems to be, he slides a hand slowly up to squeeze a rough handful of her breast.
+++++
Omega's claws are cracked, his fingers cut and bleeding from the rocks. He'd almost fallen twice: once, thanks to some loose rocks, and again because the shrieking wind gusted so hard that it nearly blew him straight off into the sea. But he clung to the cliffs, using the harsh rocks to brace himself against the unforgiving wind, and he kept going, because he was going to reach Blue or die trying.
And finally, he'd dragged himself over the edge of the cliff, onto flat, solid ground, and he was back on Isla Sorna once more. He would have fought tooth and nail against being dragged back here, and now he couldn't return to it fast enough.
His body could stand to lie there for a minute, catching his breath and blinking salt and wind out of his eyes. But there's no time for that. Omega picks himself up, ignoring the half-dry clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin, and races off into the jungle. He knows exactly where he's going. This is his childhood home, after all.
As soon as he gets close enough, the ugly, human, scientific scents of the compound hit him in an all-too-familiar rush, and memory rolls over him in a nauseating wave. He nearly reels back on pure instinct, the half-buried animal in his mind shrieking at him to turn back, they are the enemy, you can escape, you won't ever go back. But the pull of mate smothers that voice like a dying flame. The CERHA Division compound might as well be Hell on earth, and Omega would still run headfirst into it just to get to Blue.
Under the circumstances, however, that would actually be a very stupid idea.
Omega is not surprised in the least to find the compound heavily guarded by fully-armed ACU, decked out in tactical gear and non-lethals (god, they just never give up). But it's not just tasers and nets -- those are tranquilizer rockets, and he'd bet a pirate's fortune that there's a generous dose of MORO-709 waiting in those payloads. Clearly, they're expecting him. Well, that's touching.
In the old days, he would have run in headfirst. He'd have charged the compound -- maybe from a weak point, maybe picking off a few first, but it would have had all the strategy of a savage creature driven by violence and fury. That won't do his mate any good now. As much as Omega would love to cut a path straight through those bastards, it wouldn't be hard for them to take him down, even if they lost some men along the way.
On the first day they met, Blue warned him against letting hate make him reckless. 'You're giving in to the beast too much, that makes them afraid. Weak fearful prey bands together, becomes strong.' At the time he'd dismissed it as pure ignorance. Now he knows better, and once again it's entirely thanks to her.
For one sharp instant, Omega's heart is gripped tight, and despite all sense of reason, a deadly, howling fury rises up in his chest, white-hot in his blood and flashing behind his eyes. It's a feeling he knows so well, too well, one he's only been able to control under Blue's firm patience and loving touch. They took her from him. Reason or not, they're going to pay for that in blood.
And Hoskins...
Omega clenches his teeth, eyes bright, claws flexing in the shadows of the jungle. He can't go straight through them. They know him, as he used to be. They're expecting him to try it, driven by rage and bloodlust, unable to wait. So, he'll have to try something else.
He jumps quickly to the high branches of the trees and circles the large compound, silent and swift and hidden.