Belle French stormed along the corridors of Destiny, trying and failing to keep her temper in check, which was something she had been unused to before coming aboard the ship. She had never had to rein in her anger before in the working environment. It was mostly his fault. No, scratch that, it was totally his fault. She had always been the epitome of calm, a smile on her face, a kind word for those she worked with. Then they had been flung to the other end of the universe with a bunch of people she didn't know that well on a dusty old ship that didn't always act as it should. She had quickly realised that her good moods and calm demeanour back on Earth were mere artifice, caused by easy access to decent food, coffee, alcohol, and a change of clothes. Hardly surprising that back home she had been as nice as pie to everyone she met. Particularly as there had been no Dr Nicholas fucking Rush anywhere near her.
Belle huffed as she marched along, brushing her dark curls back out of her face irritably as she passed a malfunctioning vent that was spewing steam into the corridor. She should probably tell someone to look into that. Later, though, when she wasn't on a mission to tear a new hole in a certain scientist's arse. It would be helpful, she mused, if she didn't find him so bloody attractive.
Anyone else on Destiny would have given her an incredulous stare if they knew of her secret desire. Some of them, particularly Colonel Young (although she wasn't that fond of him, so told herself it didn't count) thought him dangerous. A little crazy, even. They would no doubt think the same of her, if they knew. Belle wasn't even sure that she wasn't crazy, to be frank. It had started with her first meeting with him, with a snide remark and a curl of his lip and a toss of his long hair, and she had felt unexpected desire stab her in the belly with surprising force.
Their first argument had been spectacular; Belle had, for the first time in her life, completely lost her temper in the workplace and had yelled at him for five minutes while he smirked at her and then yelled back. It hadn't helped that he'd been right about the bloody translation, damn the man, but she had enough integrity to issue a gracious apology once she'd calmed down. He had accepted with a curt dismissal, a snide comment about her lack of ability and a flash of his dark eyes that had her burning up inside once more. Cue endless nights fantasising over him grabbing her and pressing her against the wall while his mouth ravaged hers and his hands groped her body. She wanted to see him come undone, to see him break and lose control over her. If she was honest, she also wanted to leave him begging for more. But not tonight. Tonight, she just wanted to kick his arse. Figuratively speaking, of course. Probably.
She had already been to the bridge, and the mess hall, and everyone she met told her that he was in his quarters. This was surprising; he rarely slept, and Belle suspected that Young had had to physically remove him from the controls of the ship to get him to leave. Which would mean he would be in a foul mood. Perfect. She turned into the corridor where his quarters were, and slammed her hand down on the control to open the door, storming inside without bothering to announce herself.
"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" she demanded, and Rush turned, half-way through pulling his long-sleeved shirt over his head. She supposed he was just getting up from a nap. She tried not to notice his exposed belly and the way the shirt clung to his lean frame, focusing instead on his face and his bloody irritating smirk.
"Miss French," he acknowledged, pulling the shirt down. Belle bristled. That was another bone of contention. Despite the fact that she had her own bloody PhD, he refused to call her anything but that bloody patronising 'Miss French'.
"I decided to sleep for an hour or two," he added. "I would have thought you'd be pleased, you keep telling me to take a break."
"I don't care if you work yourself into an early grave!" snapped Belle, folding her arms and glaring at him. "I mean, what the hell do you think you're doing giving my slot on the communication stones to Camille? Colonel Young says you insisted."
"I did," he agreed, putting his hands on his hips and turning to face her, flicking his hair out of his eyes. "I have need of your assistance with translating some of the tablets we brought back from the last planet. I actually wanted Eli, but in the circumstances, it had to be you. Needs must." He gave her the ghost of a smile, which made Belle want to slap him.
"I was going to see my father," she objected, and he snorted.
"Really, Miss French, sometimes I doubt your commitment to this project."
"Commitment?" said Belle dangerously. "We're at the other end of the bloody universe, I don't have a bloody choice!"
"Nevertheless, I'd like to see a little more enthusiasm, if you're going to insist on being part of my team," he said, looking at his fingernails. She could feel herself getting ready to explode, a tide of anger boiling up within her. She stalked towards him, stopping mere inches from him, and squared up to him, drawing herself up to her full five feet two. Luckily he wasn't much bigger. He was watching her with a slight sneer on his face that made her want to smack it off.
"I didn't insist, you condescending prick!" she snarled. "As I recall you told Young you wanted me, and yet you do nothing but slag off my work and give me stuff even a five year old could do!"
"Strange that you manage to screw it up so often, then," he said, matching her tone, and Belle stuck her jaw out, clenching her fists.
"My father was expecting me at the hospital," she said hotly. "He was hit by a car and broke both his legs, you arsehole!"
"Then it's highly unlikely that he'll be going anywhere soon, is it?" said Rush nastily, dark eyes flashing. "Somehow, Miss French, I feel that the safety of this ship and the furtherance of our mission trumps your pathetic need for validation!"
"You!" Belle breathed, her eyes flashing. "You are such a – such a…"
Rush raised an eyebrow, leaning forward a little. "I'm sorry, was there a point you were wanting to make? Perhaps you should take a breath and count to ten before you throw your undoubtedly well thought-out and caustic comments my way."
Belle felt as though she was about to burst with rage, so she did the only thing that seemed to make sense. At least it would shut the bastard up. She grabbed handfuls of his T-shirt, pulled him towards her, and smashed her mouth into his.
Rush froze momentarily, his eyes as wide as they could go. This was about as big a surprise as he had had in a long time, and he was momentarily thrown. He was being kissed by Belle French, of all people, and he just stood there like a bloody idiot. He prided himself on quick reflexes, however, so it took him only a moment to gather his wits and kiss her back, his hands sliding into her hair as her tongue forced its way into his mouth. She tasted sweet, like raspberries, and he briefly wondered how that could be when she ate the same tasteless swill as the rest of the crew. She shoved at him, pushing him back until he hit the wall of his quarters, her hands fisting in his hair, tugging at it. She tasted delicious, she felt incredible pressed against him, and if this was one of his more bizarre dreams he didn't want it to stop. Her hands left his head, stroked down his chest, and without warning she suddenly grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it off over his head, leaving him half naked. He pulled his mouth free from hers to object, but all he seemed to come out with was a sort of strangled noise, for she was kissing down his neck and across his chest, and now she was sucking on his nipple and it felt so fucking good he couldn't think properly. He let his head roll back against the wall with a groan as her tongue swirled in circles over his flesh and her small breasts pushed against him.
Belle was enjoying herself, despite the fact that she was still furious with him. He tasted of salt and musk and something slightly spicy she had picked up on whenever he stood a little too close to her, which she assumed was his own scent. Her hands slid up his back as she tugged at his taut nipple with her teeth, and grinned as she heard him let out another groan. Her hand slid back down over his hip, sliding between his legs to cup him through his jeans. She found him already hard, straining against the denim, and Rush gasped and pulled her head back up to his, kissing her, his tongue sliding into her mouth and tangling with hers as she rubbed him with her thumb. His stubble was rough against her face, providing an interesting contrast to the softness of his mouth, and she wondered briefly how it would feel between her thighs. Another time, perhaps. Right now she just needed to own the bastard. She used her nails, scraping against the hardness of him, and he gasped and writhed, letting out an exclamation. She plucked at his belt, pulling it undone, and he pulled back a little, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide with lust.
"Belle!" he gasped, and she tugged open his fly. Well, well. So all she had to do to stop him calling her Miss French was kiss him and give him a semi hand-job. Who knew?
"Are you sure about this?" he asked hoarsely, and she glared at him.
"Shut the hell up, Rush," she whispered and kissed him again, before she stepped back and pulled her vest over her head. She was wearing sweats and the bra she had worn since they came aboard. It was looking a little worse for wear now, to be sure, but his eyes still almost bulged from his head when she undid the clasp and bared her breasts for his sight. She toed out of her sneakers, pushed down her sweats and kicked them off, leaving her in nothing but her small panties, and he shuddered visibly as he looked her over, his thin chest heaving.
"Well?" she asked insolently, hands on hips, and he growled something under his breath, tugging her to him and cupping her breasts with his hands as he kissed her. His thumbs stroked over her nipples, and Belle keened, pressing herself against him. The noises she was making gave him confidence; he was unsure how far she wanted to take this and it had been so fucking long he wasn't even sure he'd last past the first act. He bent his head to her breasts, teasing the nipples with teeth and tongue, and Belle gasped and ran her hands through his hair, tugging at it, urging him on. Tentatively, he slid a hand slowly around her small waist and over her hip, hesitating until Belle opened her legs slightly, letting him know he was welcome. He slipped the hand between her legs, cupping her, and began rubbing at her through the thin material of her underwear. Belle gasped, bucking her pelvis against his hand, trying to get him to touch her where she needed it. He took the hint and slipped his hand inside her panties, feeling the scorching heat of her skin, her soft curls. His fingers found wetness, Belle's soft folds slippery with it, and he groaned aloud as he pressed further, rubbing against her tender skin, a finger slipping inside her, his thumb rubbing against her. He hoped he was in the right area.
"That's so good!" she gasped. "Oh God, Rush, right there!"
Well, instruction manuals were useful on every occasion, it seemed. He continued to rub her, his jeans uncomfortably tight around his swollen cock, desperate to be inside her, but not knowing how far she wanted to go. A part of his mind was already surprised to find that he wasn't dreaming, or hallucinating, or sitting in that bloody chair again. For reasons he wasn't sure he would ever get, Belle French had wanted to ravish him, and was finding pleasure at his touch. Cabin fever, probably. TJ would likely know. Belle pulled him up to kiss her again, which made him lose his rhythm a little, but she didn't seem to care, pulling back, removing his hand from her underwear and lifting it up to his face. He could smell her arousal on his fingers, slick with her fluids, and she was staring at him, her big blue eyes dark with lust. Slowly, very slowly, she bent forwards and took his index finger in her mouth, sucking off her own juices. Rush almost came right there from the sight of it, from the feel of her hot, wet mouth around his finger and the look in her eyes. She pulled off slowly, watching him, and he groaned aloud as she let him go, licking her lips sensuously.
He put the other fingers in his mouth as slowly as she had, locking eyes with her, and made a deep noise of pleasure in his throat at the taste of her: salty, musky sweetness. That hint of raspberries again. She slid her fingers into his hair and kissed him, her flavour lingering in both their mouths, then pulled him to the bed, tugging at his jeans and underwear. He kicked his clothes off as he went, almost falling onto the bed as she got him naked, and she shimmied out of her panties, straddling him. Rush looked up at her as she lined them up, his hands resting lightly on her hips. He could feel her against the swollen head of his cock, her heat and softness and the slick wetness of her, her hand gripping him firmly. She sank down onto him, enveloping him,scalding him, hot and wet and tight and…
"Holy fucking Christ, Belle!" he gasped, eyes rolling back in his head, and heard her giggle.
"Never had you pegged for a religious man, Rush," she said wryly.
He wasn't, of course, not in the slightest, but she was moving against him, taking him deep inside her, her muscles gripping him tightly, and if that wasn't the sweetest thing in the whole of creation he didn't know what the hell was. He opened his eyes again, watching her, her hand bracing against his flat belly, watching the light gleaming softly on her pale skin and her perfect breasts with their hard pink nipples. He reached up, cupping them, squeezing them, and Belle let her own head roll back with a sound of enjoyment as she rode him. He was groaning, his back arching, and he could feel his orgasm building, wanting to crash through him, wanting to drown him.
"I don't know if I can hold this, Belle!" he gasped. "I have to come, I'm sorry. I have to come inside you!"
"Don't you fucking dare!" she warned fiercely, and he fell back again with a moan, desperately performing complex equations in his head to cool his desire. It seemed to work, and Belle was picking up speed, rocking against him, her breath coming in pants, her body covered in light perspiration. He took a chance and snaked a hand between them, fingers pressing into the slick flesh where they were joined, stroking her. Belle cried out, quickening her pace, ramming herself against him, and he felt her break, her muscles clamping down on him, her head thrown back with a sharp cry of pleasure and her chest heaving, and all of a sudden he was very, very glad he had managed to hold his shit together because that – that was fucking beautiful.
Belle rode out her orgasm more slowly, calming herself down, still letting out tiny moans of enjoyment as the aftershocks went through her. She slowed to a halt and lifted her head, dark curls bouncing around her shoulders, eyes heavy-lidded with desire and satisfaction. He was gazing up at her with something approaching wonder on his face, still hard within her. Good. He reached up to kiss her, and Belle pulled away, lifting herself off him and causing him to let out a strangled sound of protestation. She swung her leg over him and stood up, picking up her underwear and pulling it on with her back to him. Rush had jerked up off the bed as she got up and then fallen back again, his chest heaving. She could feel him watching her, and smiled as she pulled on her sweats and hooked her bra.
"What – what are you doing?" he asked weakly. Belle turned to him with a bright smile, and winked.
"Thanks for that, you were great!" she said breezily, and tugged her vest over her head. She watched realisation dawn on his face as he lay there, naked, unsatisfied.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" he said dangerously, and Belle's grin widened.
"See you later, Rush," she almost sang. "Get some rest, if you can."
"Rest?" he snapped. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" He was pointing to his still-hard cock, glistening with her juices, and Belle gave him a mischievous smile.
"I'm sure you don't need me to tell you, Dr Rush," she said innocently. "The entire crew knows you're a total wanker."
She opened the door, and grinned as he called after her
"Miss French, get the hell back in this room and finish what you started!" he shouted, and Belle turned slowly on her heel.
"That's Doctor French, arsehole," she said loftily, and sauntered away, her loins tingling with pleasure. She smiled as she heard genuine laughter behind her. Oh yeah. The game was most definitely on.