Author's Note:
This scene is set after the first chapter of Continuity and doesn't make any sense unless you have read that chapter. I wrote it at the encouragement of a reader who complained I had "faded to black" but opted not to include it in the story. In retrospect, it probably does belong. At any rate, I figured I'd go ahead and post it here-- enjoy!
Warning: OC/CC sex. Full frontal Kalish nudity.
Warning: contains mind-warping quantities of fluff.
***
Bialar moves his hand from Gemmi's waist and strokes the back of her hair. Despite being the color of new copper wire, it feels soft, just like a Sebaccean's. He cups her chin in his hand, tilts her face up, and claims her mouth with his. One hand drifts back to her hair, keeping her head firmly in place so he can press against her lips. The other hand is still twined with one of hers. He presses the back of her hand against his thigh and begins moving it upward.
She reclaims the hand that was holding his, ducks down to evade his grasp, and takes a step back. "I didn't mean here! Give me two macrots, then take the lift to the fourteenth level and come in the fourth door on the left. Just make sure no one sees you come into my room."
The disappointment is almost physically painful. Appealing as she is, he has no wish to endanger himself by joyriding in another man's prowler. "Gemmi, if you have a mate--"
"Oh, no! I don't, it's just... you're a bioloid, and people already think I'm a bit farbot as it is. I can't exactly go around frelling, er, recreating with you in front of everyone. I mean, with everyone knowing about it, not actually in front of... never mind. Just wait two macrots so it doesn't look like you're following me, and make sure you're alone when you come in! Please?"
He nods and then watches her dart out of the room. After counting to twenty, he decides she must have already taken the lift, which means following her now will not result in anyone seeing them together. He exits the laboratory and takes the lift across the hall, then waits for a Kalish family to walk past him before opening the fourth door on the left.
She springs up from the bed as if startled and then shakes her head, grinning ruefully at her own nervousness.
He takes a step toward her and catches a glimpse of motion out of the corner of his eye. A full-length mirror hangs on the wall beside him. When Gemmi approaches him, he takes her by the shoulders and turns her around so she faces the mirror, with him standing behind her. He moves his hands down her arms then onto her waist, where he seizes the hem of her shirt and pulls it up. She cooperates by raising her arms, allowing him to pull the shirt over her head and toss it aside.
He cups her breasts in his hands and kneads, watching in the mirror as she closes her eyes and leans back against him.
She reaches behind her back with both hands and fumbles until she manages to open his pants. She opens her eyes and smiles at him in the mirror. "You are fully functional. And I'm frelling brilliant."
He closes his eyes, slides his hands down from her breasts to her stomach, and enjoys the feel of her breathing. For a moment, he is so captivated by the softness of her skin and the slope of her curves that he forgets her Kalishness entirely. When he opens his eyes, he finds himself confronted with a visual reminder.
Seeing his astonished expression in the mirror, she frowns, looking hurt. "What? What's wrong with me?"
"Scales!" He blurts the word out, unable to articulate a better description for the iridescent markings around her nipples. Even more prominent than those around her neck, they glitter under a sheen of sweat.
"Color variations, not scales! You make it sound like I'm some disgusting Scarran." She starts to pull away from him, but he tightens his grip on her.
He hooks one arm around her waist and traces the "color variations" with his free hand, noting that the skin there feels as nice as the rest of her. Still running his fingers over what are definitely not scales, he kisses the back of her neck until she relaxes against him, mollified. He brings his lips close to her ear and whispers, "I deserve a fair warning. Where else do you have 'color variations'?"
Instead of answering, she undoes the front of her pants and wriggles out of them, keeping her eyes locked with his in the mirror as she does. The iridescent markings begin a hand's breadth below her navel and darken until they merge into a mat of coppery hair.
She raises an eyebrow. "Well?"
Keeping one hand on her breast, he uses the other to explore the newly-exposed area. Unlike the colored patches on her neck and breasts, these do feel slightly raised, like the underbelly of a serpent. He should be repulsed, but perversely, he finds the contrast between the texture of her scales and the softness of the hair just below them exciting.
Instead of answering her, he pulls her over to the bed and pushes her onto it. She rolls onto her back and reaches for him, but instead of letting himself be pulled on top of her, he puts one hand on her hip and the other on her shoulder and turns her onto her side before laying down next to her.
She wriggles into place so that when he thrusts his hips, he penetrates her. He buries his face in her hair and runs a hand over the front of her, lingering on her breasts, then her stomach, before finding the place he most wants to touch. He enjoys the feel of her damp coppery hair against his palm and the way she responds to his fingers, but mostly, he loves the feel of her scales against his wrist.
He finishes too quickly and is envious of her continued pleasure, then remembers the stylus and what she said about him being able to override unpleasant sensations. He wonders if he can override his body's unresponsiveness as well. A moment of concentration proves he can. After several macrots, Gemmi shudders against him and goes slack with exhaustion, but he isn't done with her. He rolls her onto her back and continues until her sounds become more like whimpers than squeals of delight.
He pulls away from her and props himself up on one arm, studying her face as she frowns up at the ceiling, her eyes far away.
"If I've hurt you—" he begins.
She shakes her head. "No, no. It's not that. It's just, I'm trying to think where I may have made a mistake. Is it normal for a Sebaccean to be able to do that? So many times, I mean? It could be a problem with data transfer, but I'm not sure how to fix it."
The truth, in this case, would no doubt result in her digging around in his head, tweaking lines of code for arns on end. It would be a shame to put her through so much additional laboratory work, especially when he has a more enjoyable way to employ her. With a momentous force of will, he maintains an earnest expression as he replies, "Yes, Gemmi. It's entirely normal."