[Author's rating: R; adult-themed erotica]

Author's note: Thank you, Sincos, for the use and insight into your character.

Scent of a Soulmate

Mort City, Uptown.  SD unknown.

          Restock.  Resupply.  Go home.  Sleep.  Hope that unwanted guest isn’t there tonight.  I just need to relax.

          The Wraith Raider, still attired in Cami-sneak though with his helmet slung under one arm, tiredly pushed the clean, glass door to the Karma drug outlet open and let himself inside.  The place was white and clean, a pharmacy filled with little vials lined up by the thousands in the backroom, accessible only if you had a nice little thing called an SCL.  Of course, he had one of those.

          Vortex showed his card to the spectacled elderly lady behind the counter.  She took far more time studying the card than the tall Wraith in front of her, though any Operative in the Pit might have looked twice at this Wraith.  He was noticeably more muscular than most of his lithe race, his hair an unusual shock of white, his brownish-grey temple spots extending from the clusters at the sides of his head into a more scattered print down his neck, implying a continued pattern underneath the ECM suit.  The grey-haired woman might have noticed how well his spots of blue-tinged white blended with the darker spots and with his lavender skin, maybe even considered the colors for her own hair, if she had bothered to look up.

          “Very good, Operative.  What can I get for you?”

          “Three of Kick Start Plus, two of Blaze, and one of Lumo,” he said in a pleasing baritone, though he truly couldn’t have justified that last order if he had thought more one it.

          The woman retreated efficiently into the backroom and returned very shortly with vials in hand.  She told him the credits owed and he began to pull out his card when he paused, his red eyes losing focus.

          Flip.  Alice.  Drum.  Any of these could help me relax even more.  Buy some.

          Vortex shook his head to clear the unexpected thoughts, only barely realized he had been staring through the woman for a moment, her hand held out and expecting payment. He heard a cool, detached whisper that was made up of so many voices, it was only white noise.  “Erm…Velen?”

          The woman frowned at him.  “I don’t believe we carry that yet.  Is there something else you’ve forgotten?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at his peculiar behavior.

          “No…”

          Yes.  Personal Interest, then.  There’s no better relaxation than afterglow.

          “Actually, one Personal Interest,” the Wraith amended, though he looked surprised he had spoken.

          The elderly woman gave him a tight smile and collected the vials on the counter to take them with her while she got the late request.  She returned with the added drug and placed them all in a carrying box and requested payment, which she got this time.

          Vortex left the outlet and began walking in the direction of his home, feeling dazed now as well as worn out from his three-day-long BPN.

          If you are truly worn out, we can go to the Sinkhole to relax for a while.

          “You know very well we can’t,” the Wraith answered shortly, impatiently, speaking into thin air.

          Of course.  The Joint, then.  Or Heretic, perhaps?

          “I’m not going to the Pit tonight at all, so just forget it.  I’m going home.”

          I’d really like to smoke a cigarette, then.

          “Well, I don’t.”

          Vortex, Vortex…you truly are no fun, are you?

          “Shut up, please, for two blocks just shut up!”

          Why should I?

          The distracted Wraith passed a teenaged pair of male humans as they peered into the window of a gaming shop, though they stared open-mouthed at him when he snarled, “Because I might want to put a shotgun to my head again, if that’s the only thing that will silence you!”

          Velen, for once, made no reply.

          Vortex hiked the rest of the way from the familiar pharmacy and made it to his Uptown, semi-detached apartment without further thoughts that weren’t his own, but as he stood outside studying his home, he quickly noted the crack of light along one shaded window on the far right side; his bedroom window.

          Damn it, he thought.  She’s here.  How does she always get in?  I’ve changed the locks five times!  Never mind the security code’s been changed at least twice that.  I do not have the energy to deal with this tonight.

          No, no, this is good, Vortex, whispered the other voices in his head.  Take a whiff of the air.

          He did.  And somehow, the scent was there.  Just barely.

          Without consciously willing it, Vortex removed his weapon-and-supply laden pack from his back and set it down on the ground, then reached inside to remove the vial of Personal Interest, slid it inside the auto-injector, and raised it to his neck.  It was only as he pressed the button and felt the sharp pinch that Vortex tried to seize control of his body again, tossing the now-empty vial and injector away from him.

          “No…!” he hissed, though kept his voice quiet.  “Velen, what have you done?”

          What you need.  What we both need.  But from here on tonight, in a baffling gesture of compromise, Velen’s white noise of voices would stay silent.

          Vortex felt the drug start to flood his body; it heightened his senses, sent his skin to tingling, caused the low, hot clench of excitement, of desire, in his gut.  He felt very warm, very constrained all of a sudden, and started removing his armor as if that would help.  He stopped himself before he might have gotten out of the ECM suit as well, looking at the pieces scattered around him as if for the first time.  He groaned, hating that he was never sure which actions were his, and which were Velen’s, but stubbornly collected his precious armor and equipment from the ground, most of it carried on his back except for his armor in his arms, and slowly made his way toward the front door.

          He could catch the scent better here, like a heated, salty elixir passing through his nose and settling on his tongue until he could taste it.  He knew it would be much stronger once he opened the door.  He slowly sank down onto his knees at the threshold outside his door, set the armor down in order to hold his head and try to retain some degree of self-control, of self-awareness.  If he went inside… no… no, he couldn’t go inside.

          But he still inhaled deeply, his body reacting to the exquisite scent; it was just right, the chemistry, the match.  It was perfect.

          Female.  Dominant.  Ready to mate.

          Vortex felt another stab of panic even through the pleasure-pain of his readiness.  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!  Personal Interest for him usually only heightened sexual pleasure that was already there, it wasn’t supposed to turn him into a sex-crazed, raving lunatic!

          What was happening to him?

          Vortex twitched as a cool, wet breeze drifted over him and he felt every molecule caress his spotted face.  He not only smelled her---her fragrant heat, her light perspiration, even the scent of his shampoo she had used to wash her hair---but he heard her as well. She had given a bird-like cry shortly before he fell to his knees on the stoop, and now she moaned a little, a languid, contented sound as the mattress creaked beneath her.  She might have been mating; but he would have smelled another, would have heard him.  No, she was quite alone.

          She’s masturbating in my bedroom!

          His angry realization cut a bit through the fog of his mind at first, but soon the image it brought him melted in with the heat of his own body, fanned his senses into a white-hot vision that he wasn’t sure was real or not.  It burned up his caution, his confusion, until only instinct remained.  She was ready.  And he was ready.

          Shelia.

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