Author's Note: This is for the LJ 60 prompts in 60 days: Protection.
Thank you to xyber116 for beta'ing this chapter, who persuaded me to publish more of this chapter here.
I don't own the characters or Revolution; I'm just playing with them for a bit for fun, not profit.
"My world just ended. Yes, it was crappy, but it was mine, and I knew my place in it. I need some comfort right now, and if you aren't the one to provide it, then…" Rachel sat down on the edge of the bed, fighting off an unwelcome bout of tears.
Miles kneeled before her and gently brushed a teardrop away. Rachel more forcefully knuckled the rest of her tears away and looked at Miles, her eyes still a bit tear-blurred. His brown eyes overflowed with pure, undiluted adulation; Rachel's cervix spasmed. Part of her protested that it was far too early for such feelings – he must have completely unrealistic expectations of her, or have been without sex for far too long – another part of her felt loved, protected, and wanted him in her right now.
Rachel ducked her head down and stole a quick kiss, deftly avoiding leaving a nose-print on his glasses. Rachel ran her fingers through Miles' glossy brown hair and wondered if he'd still give her that wetness-inducing look if he knew all things she'd done, all the guys she'd fucked, the guys she'd killed.
Rachel began unbuttoning Miles' military surplus fatigues and ran her fingers along the smooth planes of his chest. He was neither ripped, nor flabby, neither too hairy, nor unusually bald. Miles closed his eyes and moaned softly under her questing fingers. Rachel shucked the yoke of his shirt over his firmly muscled shoulders and let it slide down to puddle behind him. Rachel's fingers explored his fine deltoids and trapezius muscles and then paused to unbutton her blouse.
Miles opened his eyes and looked up at her. His nimble fingers took over the task of unbuttoning, and she returned to mapping his exquisite shoulders. Once he unbuttoned her blouse, he gave the flat plane of her belly a kiss and stood up. They sat down on the bed and he kissed her lightly on the lips. Rachel deepened the kiss, tangling her hands in his hair, and he slipped her shirt off her shoulders. He broke off the kiss to give her an inquiring look. Rachel nodded encouragement, and Miles popped her bra snap. Miles slid the straps off her shoulders and then gazed at her bare torso. The gaze was just long enough to be appreciative, but not so long as to be creepy or objectifying. Miles cupped her breasts in his callused hands and teased the nipples with his thumbs.
Miles worked her nipples to high nubs and Rachel gasped. She caught a self-satisfied grin on Miles' face. Rachel leaned over and kissed that smug grin right off his face. Miles used the belt loops on her jeans to slide her over and lift her up into his lap. Rachel adjusted her position slightly, grinding against Miles' penis ever so subtly. Rachel's lips captured Miles' muffled groan. He was very responsive, she thought with a smirk.
Rachel's hands returned to Miles' shoulders and Miles hands caught in her hair. Rachel nibbled on Miles' lip and was graced by another soft moan. Miles' hand ran down her back, ghosting along her spine – one of her sweet spots – she arched her back with a whimper.
Miles hands cupped her butt-cheeks and lifted her up. Miles began to lick and lap at her already tender nipples, and Rachel relaxed into the dual sensations of suspension and Miles' tender ministrations.
One of Miles' teeth scraped along her nipple and she let out a soft howl, riding the crest of stimulation. Miles instantly lowered her down and released her, apologizing profusely. Rachel's consciousness percolated back into her cascading body and she laughingly kissed Miles' forehead.
"There's nothing to apologize for silly man; that was good." She added with a Cheshire grin, "Very good."
Miles looked very discomfited, and was likely overthinking things, so Rachel decided to move on from the appetizers to the main course. She stepped over Miles and walked over to her bag; she felt his eyes on her so she made sure to give him a show as she bent down and unzipped one of the front pockets. She pulled out a condom, and while she was down there, untied and removed her tennis shoes.
Rachel turned around, fixed Miles with a sultry look and stepped out of her pants. Rachel was glad she just happened to be wearing her sexy red lace panties the day the world ended. Miles certainly was eyeing them admiringly.
Miles' eyes ran up her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He locked his eyes on hers and said, voice gruff with emotion, "I want you to know; I didn't do that for this."
"I know," Rachel said, and then she gave him a little glance, telling him he was far too dressed. Miles obeyed with astounding alacrity, untying his boots and kicking off his pants. His legs were as lean and firmly muscled as his shoulders and she ached to explore them – not today, now it was time to move onwards. Rachel eyed his bulged black boxer briefs. Not exactly what she was expecting. She wasn't sure if she thought he was a boxers guy or a briefs guy, but she certainly hadn't considered boxer briefs.
Rachel awoke with one of Miles' arms draped protectively over her, his morning wood wedged against her hip. It actually wasn't too bad. She had had some pretty bad morning-afters in her time and many indifferent ones too. That's why, for the most part, she didn't sleep over, using an opening shift at the café as an excuse. But that wasn't really an option anymore, now was it?
Rachel wondered if what she told Dr. Deng last night was the truth. Was she Miles' girlfriend? How did this all work post-apocalypse? Would she trade sex for the security of Miles' little science-clan? If the sex was as good as it was last night – he was far from tentative once he got going – she saw no issues with that trade in the near future, but what about when things got monotonous? What about when they ran out of condoms? Well as someone famous once said, it's no use borrowing trouble from the future; she had enough trouble in the here-and-now to deal with.
Speaking of… Rachel rolled over to her side and kissed Miles' shoulder. No reaction. She tried a kiss on the neck. No reaction. A kiss on the earlobe? Big reaction. Miles flailed about, his eyes blinking rapidly. Rachel fixed an innocently amused look on her face and waited for Miles' brain to wake up too. Miles' eyes focused on her, and a small grin blossomed on his face – presumably when he realized he had been woken up by a kiss from a beautiful woman naked in his bed.
"Good morning," he said and rolled over to his back.
"Good morning," she replied, and then continued, "What's the plan Stan? What do we do, now that the world has ended?"
Miles sat up and scooted back towards the headboard, "Well, the first thing we need to do is find a base of operations – a public building more than likely – with enough room for all of us and defensible too. People will start realizing that the shit has hit the fan in a big way soon enough, and social mores will go out the window. I was thinking John and I could go scouting and you guys can try to figure out how best to get the supplies we need to our base with as few trips as possible. This is tiny-town USA, and they'll probably start blaming the Chinese pretty soon, so we have to get them to the safe house quickly and quietly. I guess you and Dr. Warren could try to see if you can barter for some medical supplies, or really important non-essentials like toilet paper."
Rachel lay back and admired take-charge Miles. A Miles she'd never seen at the café, but one she was enjoying getting to know.
"What?" he asked, inquiring about the silly grin she felt upon her face. Rachel wondered about telling him the truth, but opted for saying, "I know a way we could get a bunch of TP, but you aren't going to like it…"
Author's Note: The rest of this chapter was posted on AO3 (same author, same title, archiveofourown dot org slash works slash 926063).
Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated :)