Summary: Sometimes the truth comes out at the least opportune or appropriate moments. Maritza's playful teasing leads Bain to tangentially admit a truth he's been keeping buried.
a/n: Written for #Fictober. Day 03: "Now, behave," they murmured.
Time for Good Behavior
In the dim light, Bain could just make out her features. Those big eyes turned on him, a glint hiding what he could only hope might be mischief. Soft cotton skimmed his bare chest as they both stretched in tandem. Her gaze diverted, his eyes studied her face in close up. Her brow arched in a serious bent, that almost never truly relaxed even when she laughed. A few stray freckles dotted her cheeks and chin, reinforcing a nearly overwhelming desire to press worshipful kisses to each one. The scar—he still didn't know how she'd gotten it—and from his current angle he really couldn't see much of it, just the curving swipes that reached above her jawline like claws seeking purchase.
Her nose skimmed his a moment later. Gaze flicking upward, his eyes met hers—the gray prominent in the low light, but he knew them well enough for his mind to impose the violet rims to her irises. Her smile, unseen, brightened them, adding mirth to the fire of desire that burned within them.
"Now," she breathed, a little laugh still hitching her voice. A remnant of the tickling, he chose to assume. "Behave." Her order was curt and final.
A smirk curved his mouth. "Never happen," Bain replied. He leaned upward, as she straightened, perched on his hips. The binds at his wrists limited his movement to a handful of inches. Controlled as his range of motion might be, his countenance brimmed with confidence and promise.
He saw it in her face, the hitch in her breath. He pulled against the bindings at his wrists once more as the desire to make it happen again flooded his system. Bain wanted her. He could happily spend a day worshipping every inch of her body; spend a life time delving into her brilliant mind. If only she'd give him the chance; that thought flooded his mind unbidden. The realization pushed him back onto the bed. He stared up at her knowing full well that fault for what little they shared now rested squarely on his own shoulders.
With a tightening of his jaw, Bain managed to wrestle those errant thoughts back into the darkness he kept them in. Maritza was here and now. That's where his attention should focus.
"So, Pathfinder, now that you have me. What in Andromeda are you going to do with me?" he chided. Those thoughts still nipped at the edges of his mind, even when she flashed a cocksure smile his way.
"I can think of a few things," she said, her body coiling then moving over his once more until they were nose to nose, one another's faces filling the other's vision. "But I do wonder what might happen if I just left you here like this. Would someone find you?"
Bain exhaled a singular low chuckle. "You don't think I could fend for myself?"
"Tied to your headboard? Forgive me if I have my doubts."
This time his laugh reverberated through the sparsely decorated room. "I told you. I'm always prepared for every eventuality," he teased rolling his hips against her body, hoping to spark something beyond this taunting game.
"So, you have said," Maritza challenged. There was still a headiness to her voice, weighting her gaze as her eyes met his.
"If you wish to know," he replied, a hint of resignation souring his playful tone. Bain stretched a bit, reaching under the edge of the headboard. As he did so, his body pressed against hers again.
Maritza Ryder struck—it started with a clever rock of her hips, then the nip of sharp teeth along his ribs. Bain wriggled beneath her, a gusty sigh parting his lips. His body dropped to the mattress again, his attention on her once more.
"Oh, don't stop on my account," she teased. Her tongue seared against his skin, he knew it was a trick of his imagination and his own need. The tip of it swirled around one of his nipples, then her mouth drew away. As if in slow motion, her lips formed a pert O, then her breath chilled the trail she'd left upon his chest.
Bain's jaw tightened as a sound between pleasure and pain escaped him. She continued her method, lapping against his skin, then chilling it.
"Mari," he moaned when after blowing cold against one of his nipples to tighten it, she then took it in her mouth to lavish it with heat. His hips pressed hard against her clothed hips. That frustrated him—the fact that she was still entirely clothed. Not because it left him at her mercy, but because he wanted to feel it. That singular sensation of her skin against his. The silk of her on the velvety hardness of him.
She hummed, halting her machinations for a moment as she looked up at him with one brow quirked in inquiry. With a pop, her lips abandoned his skin. That slide of smooth cotton returned, covering his chest. He would have much preferred the slick of her sweat sheened skin, but he savored what she allowed him.
Her face approached his with an almost animalistic curiosity as she tipped her head this way and that, like a cat on the prowl toying with her prey. The idea of that excited him more than he should allow it—being hunted by the pathfinder, being Maritza's prey.
Her fingers smoothed over his brow, then followed the centerline from the bridge of his nose back down over his shaved head. "I thought you were showing me how prepared you are," she taunted.
"Perhaps I'm enjoying being at your mercy." That earned a smile from her.
"Well then, I guess it's time for me to go."
Bain knew it for the toothless threat it was; she didn't move an inch, her fingers still danced over his head in a delightfully distracting way. "Why you'd come all this way," he said emphasizing each word, "if you were just going to tie me up and leave me wanting?"
"Maybe just to see you squirm." There was a bite in her voice. He heard it from time to time. Perhaps it was repayment for the way he went cold on her that first time on Eos, perhaps it was something else altogether, something he couldn't pinpoint.
Bain rocked his hips against hers. "Like this?" he asked, that smirk she said she hated tugging up one corner of his mouth.
"Not quite," she said in a sing-song tone as she sat up again. Planting her palms flat against his chest for leverage, her body answered the playful taunt he'd delivered. Hers had far better effect, leaving him with a growl in his throat. She had a full advantage on him, being that she remained fully clothed.
He stretched again, more intent on his freedom. It enticed Maritza to be more masterful with her distraction. His fingers sought the hilt of the knife he'd concealed there; hers pushed down his body, tracing the shape of taut muscle. A moan cracked from his throat when her hand wrapped around his already hard cock. "Fuck," he breathed, eyes closing as his body rocked into her touch.
He savored the sensations a moment. Her lips following the curve of his ribs and the careful, infuriatingly slow rhythm she set as her hand pushed down his shaft, back up again, then swirled around the tip. Opening his eyes, he found her blinking up at him. The look on her face was one he couldn't quite put into words, except the challenge in her eyes, like she dared him to free himself, dared him to retaliate, dared him to break his bonds and take her.
Her eyes focused his mind. He leaned back once more. The flick of her tongue against his glans pausing his search once more, but only for a moment. "Stars," he hissed on an exhale. Finally, with fumbling fingers, he found what he was looking for and ripped the knife and the tape used to secure it there off the back of the furniture. He flicked it open and cut his binds without care or consideration.
Whether reward for his escape or torture for the same he couldn't be sure, but Maritza plunged him into her mouth. An incoherent groan tore free from his chest. For an instant, his decision seemed impossible—stop her or let her continue. A flash of reason told him there were myriad benefits to each choice. He leaned upward, eyes drawn to her, he pressed a single hand into her short hair, still uncertain as to whether he would encourage her to continue or pull her off him to repay her in kind for the teasing.
As his fingertips, pressed against her scalp, tightening in her course dark brown hair, she hummed. A delightful sound that reverberated through his cock and along his spine. She pinned him with the sharpness of her gaze, and Bain, free as he might be to do anything but, remained there at her mercy, her wonderful and enticing mercy.
No words passed between them, only incoherent sounds of contentment and desire. Maritza's intent pushed well beyond teasing and Bain allowed himself to be the beneficiary of her plan. Her head bobbed; her hands teased with measured precision. When he watched her eyes slip shut, he could only wish for them to open again; then once they did, he felt a tightness coiling in his groan.
"I'm close," he told her. A warning. An invitation. His hand found one of hers resting upon his thigh. She showed no signs of letting up. He wanted … her. But this hadn't been how he planned on this playing out. His orgasm struck him.
As it did, he groaned out her name, weighted with a desire he couldn't give voice to. He wanted her, wanted this, but so much more.
Her mouth crashed against his, pushing him entirely back against the bed. Her hand still stroking him as her tongue plunged past his lips. The taste of her mouth, the hint of his own salt on her tongue, set his head spinning; Maritza could have that effect on him. Her hand stilled between his legs, but her lips did not. Bain took everything she gave him, lapped up every second they shared like a greedy, starving animal.
When the kiss broke, some primal part of him broke free long enough to say one word. "Stay."
Maritza looked as surprised to hear it as he was. But Bain wouldn't take it back, wouldn't rescind the offer. After all, it was what he'd wanted from the start, even if he knew she deserved more, deserved better.