For AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, because she enjoyed and begged and told me so. ^_^ Best way to please an author, folks!
"Surrender all your dreams to me tonight; they'll come true in the end." -- Pat Benatar
"I..."
"Hm?"
"I'm not sure what I want, right now."
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No...No, that wasn't what I meant. I mean...I don't know what we do next. I mean, I do -- I mean..." She hangs her head in shame and silent frustration. He puts a finger under her chin and tilts her face up, brings them nose-to-nose.
"We could just go with the old 'do it if it feels good' policy." But everything feels good with him; that's part of the problem. He covers one of her breasts with his hand. Doesn't move it. "Does that feel all right?" She sits very still.
"Commander."
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Am I going to...see you again?"
"Uhh, yeah, Lieutenant; I can't exactly leave the ship, can I? I see you all the time."
"No, I mean....if I...if I do whatever I want with you. Would you... still do it again; after that."
"Aw, Natarle." He's hugging her again. Her chin is over his shoulder. "You think I'm just going to get what I want from you, and pretend it never happened? That's a really, really shitty thing to do to someone, excuse my language. I've never done that, not to anyone; I never would. Of course, I think it helps if you only... interact with people you like."
"...You like me."
"Of course I do. What am I, the ship's social worker?" He starts to laugh. "Sorry. Not that altruistic. What, you don't like me?"
"I like you."
"Remember when I said you needed to trust me? Well...you need to trust me. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm not. I'm trying to make you feel better."
"Why?"
"Didn't we go over all of this? But... I hated feeling lonely. Still do. That's what friends do; they make you feel better. Can you just believe that you can walk out that door tomorrow, and I will still treat you exactly as I did yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Okay then. Is there something you'd like me to do right now?"
"...Put your hand back. Please."
"What about the other one?" His hands are over both her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples. "Does that feel good, Lieutenant? Feels great to me."
"Commander..."
"If you let me take your shirt off, there's a lot more of you that I could kiss...and I'd like to."
She should probably just accept the fact that her face will burn for however long this lasts. "I...I can do it myself." So, she does.
His hands feel wonderful. Everywhere. Almost as good as his mouth.
He stops. "Should I take my shirt off?"
"I..." She gives up, and just nods. Before she can think about it, anymore. And watches as he pulls it over his head. And he looks even better without that. She puts her hand on his upper pectoral. But she stares down at his abdomen, tautly defined, not at his face. "Commander Fllaga."
"Yes, Ms. Natarle?" She feels how his hands are poised to unhook her bra. "...Okay?" She nods. And gazes at his mouth, while he does it, and tries to fight the automatic instinct to cover herself.
"You're wonderful," she blurts; when he hugs her again, she can see what he meant; all this warmth and bare skin are astonishingly pleasurable. If dizzying. At least they're already on the floor.
"I try." He's kissing her neck again. But moving to her shoulder now. "You're not that bad yourself." He's rubbing his hand up and down the length of her bared back and suddenly, she feels herself being soothed, and leans into him, with her head on his shoulder. "You like that? Finally, I get something right, huh."
But when he takes his tongue and his lips to her nipples, after fondling her breasts, when he sucks them, it's like her body and mind are being flung out of control again. And she really doesn't care. His hair in her fingers, that bright gold pelt....she wishes she could feel it on the rest of her body.
She's shocked to realize she's having an orgasm like this. And that she's still not satisfied, even though he's not stopping or slowing down.
"...Commander..."
"Yeah?"
"I think I'd like to go to bed now."
"...Okay." He gets up slowly, breathing hard, moves toward his clothing. She doesn't move.
"I mean, take you with me."
He turns back and stares. "Really? You sure? Now?"
She gets up and unzips her skirt, and steps out of her stockings and the wet mess of her underwear. She throws her skirt on the chair and climbs into bed. She's sure. Now.
He removes his pants and socks and -- "Take those off, too." -- and his undershorts, and she sees what he really looks like, as he comes closer and climbs into her bed.
"You're very tight," his voice whispers, close to her ear.
"I'm sorry," she flushes, but she doesn't have any hiding room here, like this, on her back, under him, with him inside.
"Don't apologize. Very tight feels about right for you...I like it," he continues quietly, "You make it impossible for me to think about anything except what I'm doing right this second...and where it's happening. The 'impossible possible' is somewhere far, far away." Except that this is the impossible, possible. Mwu La Fllaga in her bed, her body.
"Well, Commander Fllaga," something has her whole body in a heated grip, and she doesn't know whether it's the prospect of saying what she thinks, or..."is it me or is it just that you're so large, I couldn't take it?"
She feels him spasm on top of her, pulse of inside her, and hears his panting interrupted by a deep groan.
Finally, he gains some control back. "My, oh, my, Ms. Natarle... my, my, my, my, my." Those blue eyes flash and gleam. Even in the dim light. White teeth, like a crescent moon, or a hunting beast. "Sex as a weapon, Combat Commander? ...And you meant that, didn't you."
"Of course. After we're done, I should be looser because of this, shouldn't I?" He groans again, tightens his arms around her and presses their bodies together.
"'Of course'," he echoes. "You're going to let me kiss you." He gives her his wonderful mouth, teasing with his lips and then with his tongue until she takes it inside her own. He hasn't done this before, but it feels right, being joined with him at both ends like this.
Does she call him "Mwu" when she comes? She doesn't know, but there's the endless hot surging, the overwhelming waves of pleasure, and "Commander" has too many syllables.
Besides, he promised not to hold it against her.
"Okay, I know you don't really want to me fall asleep here, so if you'll excuse me, I'll get out of your way," he mutters, several unknown minutes later.
Part of her just wants him to stay, as he kisses her neck, slides out of her bed, and starts to get dressed. But not the part that tells her that yes, he needs to disappear and she needs to put this out of her mind by the time she gets up again
(And not remotely regard any of this as anything anywhere near normal).
It's not about what she wants, not any more. That's over.
She's startled when he stops by the side of her bed fully dressed, and sits up, automatically.
"Yes?"
He leans down and kisses her. On the mouth, with a surprising gentleness, and she wishes it was longer.
"...Goodnight, Natarle. Sleep well, Lieutenant."
For a moment, her mind can't think of-- "Commander?"
He's at the door. "Yes?"
"...Thank you." She swears she can see him smile, even at this range, in the dark.
"My pleasure."
And then she's alone with her thoughts.
