II. Rights
It was ship's night by the time they got back to Derek's spaceplane. Maigrey, half in a fog, simply strapped into the copilot's chair and let Derek handle everything.
Derek. Her partner. And his father had said it. Which meant that Derek couldn't--- or at least wouldn't--- refuse.
That was all she could think of. He was hers and she was his.
The Jump jolted her out of her reverie. Derek was already unfastening his harness. She looked up at him. "Derek---"
"I'm going above--- to think." Meaning, leave me the hell alone. And his mind was closed to her.
She shuddered. So much for partners.
She nodded dumbly. Sat shivering in the cockpit until she heard the water running in the shower. Sat some more until she heard it go off. Listened as he moved around in the living area.
Probably going to sleep. Or at least to act like it. So she wouldn't bother him.
She felt the tears start, and this time didn't bother fighting them.
Damn him anyway. So much for promises.
She sat there a long time in the cockpit, crying silently so as not to disturb him.
****
Sagan threw himself down on the bunk, shaking violently.
He couldn't be near her. Not now. The memories were too close... especially with what he knew she'd want from him.
God... not that. Not now.
Not when he could practically feel Castus' hot breath on the back of his neck and the man's horrid fleshy hands... rather lower....
God. No. He gagged, swallowed hard, grateful his stomach was empty. There'd been times in his childhood he'd been likewise grateful that he was half-starved: he'd never have kept anything down anyway.
The worst of it was hearing the man's whispered voice in his head.
Good boy, Derek... that's a good boy....
It was the only time anyone had ever said that to him, in those dark and lonely years.... And for what? Only for the worst sin a man could commit.
He'd been willing to make that trade, God help him--- his immortal soul for a few kind words and a semblance of care.
If his father had known....
Dear God. The man had despised him enough when he considered the child merely a visible reminder of his own weakness. If he'd known that his illegitimate offspring had been practicing worse sins....
Sometimes Sagan had rather thought his father's disgrace was far too high a price for his own wretched existence.
Until... Maigrey. His reason for living....
And he'd failed her. Left her alone in the cockpit--- after what they'd experienced tonight.
Left her without what she'd wanted from him....
What she wanted... the same as Castus, when you got down to it. Except that with Maigrey he didn't feel... sick. Used. There was warm comfort and safety in her touch, along with the other feelings that he'd never quite understood....
She needed him. And what she needed, she would get, always.
He started to get up--- and heard the water start in the shower. She'd come up while he wasn't paying attention.
God! Neglecting her so completely....
A waste, he was. An utter waste.
He leaned his head against the wall and trembled, lost in misery.
*****
One of the nice things about spacecraft, Maigrey reflected, was that there was always plenty of hot water. The drives produced water as a by-product, and it was easy to heat that water by running it back past the engines and through a rad-scrubber.
She took a long, hot shower, letting the water push the aches of out body and mind, then spent another long time sitting in front of one of the side viewports, getting her hair dry and brushed. Not that she was particularly vain about it--- it was just a nice, soothing, mindless activity.
Just what she needed. She didn't especially want to think.
The pilots' bunks were back past the shower, open-face. She started to head back down to the cockpit, not wanting to face him---
Something made her look back over her shoulder.
Derek was sitting on his bunk, his profile toward her... his face a mask of pain.
Her partner... was hurting. And hadn't come to her.
Before tonight, she might have been hurt. Now all she wanted was to comfort him.
If he could let her.
She padded back toward the bunks. If he heard her, he gave no sign.
She sat down on his bunk, across from him. "Derek?" Derek?
He blinked, shook his head... slowly, came back from whatever dark place he was in, his expression clearing slowly, as if the effort of normalcy pained him. "What is it?"
Verbal speech only--- not the intimate mental touch she craved. She put a hand to his cheek; he shuddered, then accepted her touch, passively. "You tell me."
He trembled then, violently. "Don't ask." Turning his head, he pulled away, sat staring at nothing.
"I'm your partner--- it's my job."
She felt him smile before she saw it. "You like that term, don't you?"
"Yep--- at least, I like it for us." She drew a leg up to her chest, rested her chin on her knee, and regarded him. "I'd like to know what's wrong--- I'd like to---" she took a deep breath--- "catch a spiked ball for you."
He twitched, visibly. "You saw that?"
"I knew you'd want to." She took a deep breath. "Derek, if you're going to protect me, the least you can do is let me return the favor."
He sighed, deeply, then turned back to her. "You already do." He cupped her chin in his hand, his fingers stroking the line of her jaw. "I couldn't have survived that, without you."
She nodded slightly. "I think that's the point--- I couldn't have done it alone either."
He shook his head. "Not the rite--- going back there."
The monastery. Where he grew up. "Oh."
"Yes, oh." His voice was savage; he took his hand away, roughly, turned his head. Then, softly, "I'm sorry."
"Doesn't matter." It was okay if he needed privacy.... Anything was okay, as long as she had him.
"Yes, it does." He looked back at her. "As you said, we're partners."
The warmth in his eyes reminded her of what she'd dreamed this night would be. Her heart jumped painfully. "Then... don't you think you should keep your promise... to your partner?"
The light in his eyes flared, became a devouring light. "Yes." His voice was hoarse, urgent. "Oh, yes."
He leaned forward, and kissed her.
*****
After that first instant of mindless animal hunger, Sagan got control of himself. He drew back from her a little, resting his forehead against hers, stroking her soft pale hair.
Her breath was sweet-hot against his face. "Derek---" It was almost a whine.
Shhhhh. He drew a breath and another, until he was certain he'd mastered his own lust... enough to satisfy her desires. All of them.
And then he put his arms around her and drew her gently down on the bed with him.
Kissing was familiar territory for them, and for a long while he did that, covering her face with kisses while she leaned into his touch with soft little moans. Her skin was soft under his lips, and this time he indulged himself utterly in the feel of it, lost himself in the curve of her cheek, the hollows of her eyes and the soft flicker of her lashes against his lips, her breath warm on his face as she panted softly.
She felt good to him; perhaps that was the difference. Or perhaps it was simply that he liked pleasing her.
This time he left her hands free, and her slim strong arms snaked around his body, one pressing tight around his ribs while her other hand came up to tangle in his hair. She was fascinated with it--- was always teasing him, trying to get it out of the tail that kept it out of his way.
Well, now it was safe to let her indulge... anything. Anything she wanted. He felt her clever little fingers work the thong loose and then she buried a hand in his hair and pressed her lips to his and held him to her while her tongue sought entry to his mouth.
He opened to her and let her explore his mouth greedily while he tasted the sweet open warmth of her lips and caressed her tongue with his. He stroked her hair back from her face and she pressed against him and writhed in his arms and clung to him--- good God, to him--- like she was drowning.
Dear God, he needed this. Needed for a few moments to matter to her... to know that he could give her something... and, God help him, to make her need him for something. Even if it was just for a little while. Even if it was just for this. He didn't expect anything else.
She moaned against his mouth and cried out and pressed herself to him, rolling half on top of him and tugging at his shirt impatiently with her free hand. Derek--- please--- oh, please---
He broke the kiss, though it cut him inside to do it, and forced a soft laugh. Easy, little wildcat. We have all the time in the world. Time enough to please her completely... time enough to have, perhaps, a little comfort for himself beyond the mere physical gratification that meant so little to him in itself.
She laughed breathily, ending on a little moan, and combed her fingers through his hair, stroking it back from his face. Her hands felt good against his scalp. Promise?
He kissed her forehead. Promise. And then he bent to kiss her in earnest again, stroking his lips down the smooth strong curve of her jaw to her throat. She moaned with it, both her hands in his hair this time, pressed his head to her.
He brushed his lips down the sensitive curve of her neck to her collar--- where he usually stopped.
And would this time, if she wanted. He opened a channel between their minds, letting her feelings wash over him---
White-hot tide--- excitement and lust and just the slightest thrill of fear that seemed to enhance the other feelings rather than bury them. Near-desperate, she was... God help him.
And not a hint of reluctance. Oh, God, no. Anything but.
He popped the first button on her collar, nuzzled gently at the hard ridge of her collarbone, soft, soft skin stretched tight over bone... and brought his hands around to stroke her sides and hips and back, the soft material of her shirt over the warmth of softer, smoother flesh. He kept his touch gentle and coaxing and rousing, following her nerve paths, letting himself drown in her experience of his touch through the mind-link. Her pleasure at the feel of him... her hunger for more.
She needed him. Right now, she needed him. As much, perhaps, as he always needed her... if in a different form altogether.
His hands slid her shirt up and down her back, leaving a bare expanse of skin at the base of her spine. Gently he traced a finger along skin he knew was sensitive, was aching to be touched---
She jumped violently, then arched back into his hand... like a cat being petted. He chuckled softly, his lips against her shoulder. My little wildcat.
Yours. Her tone was definite and desperate. She brought her hands around, set to work with clumsy haste on his shirt.
He pushed back from her a little, startled at this sudden shift. Maigrey--- you don't have to--- No need, none at all, for her to... service him. He'd rather focus on her, if he had his choice.
Safer, to simply join his mind with hers and find all her needs and meet them... and belong to her. Less frightening certainly than experiencing a kind of touch he couldn't really understand except through her mind and nerve paths.
The only pleasure he'd learned from that act was in the trade... a little time of being valued. The rest... had been too terribly confusing.
Until Maigrey... who'd taught him the pleasures of touch. He was as much her student as she his in this for all he was older.
She pushed back from him, her grey eyes clear and pleading on his. But I want to--- Flash of hot liquid ache from her mind and senses--- Please?
For a moment he could only tremble in disbelief. Dear God... she was begging to touch him...?
All right. He couldn't imagine answering her any other way.
Her eyes lit like twin stars. Thank you.
Of course. He stroked a strand of pale hair back from her face.
Her hands were trembling on the buttons of his shirt--- but quick, urgent, as if this was something she'd wanted a long time.
Strange thought, that. He'd always rather imagined that what she wanted from him was the pleasure of being touched, that all her eager caresses were more in the nature of an encouragement to him.
An utterly unnecessary one.
Quite disconcerting to think that she might find some delight in his body as well.
She got the buttons undone, pushed his shirt off his shoulders almost angrily, fiercely. He got it the rest of the way off, tossed it aside before her warm little weight against him pressed him back on the bed.
And then for a long time he lay still and passive under her touch and let her run eager, clumsy hands over him and leave warm wet trails with a hungry mouth. Her hands were sword-callused, the roughness of her fingertips and palms a lovely scratching on his skin, delightful counterpoint to her light soft touch. Her lips and tongue were soft, gentle, as she flickered little licking kisses over his skin, finding sensitive spots he didn't know he had.
And he trembled--- inside, where she couldn't see. Because, God help him, it was good to lie there with his mind blank and let her have him... good, for a little while, to feel like he might possibly matter.
Because... he could come to need this. Oh, God... he could need this. Could need to be touched like this... something he had no right to, something utterly out of his control....
Her strong fingers kneaded tight muscles in his chest, languid firm rubbing, and he bit his lip against a cry.
Go ahead. Her voice in his mind was shimmering with delight. Let yourself go--- enjoy it. That's what I want.
He couldn't understand her... only that she was enjoying it, and that was what mattered.
She must have caught some of that thought--- she chuckled wickedly. Oh, really?
Strong little fingers caught in the hairs on his chest, tangled--- pulled. "Ah!" His eyes, half-closed in pleasure, came open at the startling sensation.
Like that? Her eyes glinted teasingly.
And for a second, his mind froze... because he had.
Because the pleasure-pain was the most delicious thing she could do to him... something familiar enough that he could relax into it and take whatever she wanted to give without any uncertainty at all.
Do you? he asked back.
And heard her soft laugh. Oh, yes.... And then her warm wet mouth clamped onto a nipple, lips and teeth stroking sensitive skin, while her fingernail scraped against its twin.
Incredible sensation, that touch vibrating through the whole of his body--- the pleasure and pain mingling in a heady cocktail that set his head to spinning.
She stopped before he'd had quite enough of that experience, her fingers tracing too-light teasing circles down his stomach, making his muscles twitch and clench involuntarily. Her mouth followed in her fingers' wake, warm and wet and soothing to overstimulated nerves....
Her fingers found his belt, started tugging.
If he'd had any question as to her intentions, the white-hot picture in her thoughts answered it conclusively.
And called up, quite without any volition on his part, another, darker picture from his memory---
He slammed his shields down before she could see any of that, felt the frightened hurt of her mind. Derek---
Which was all it took for him to banish that memory and get control of himself. He lowered his shields again---
Caught her hands and pulled her to him, tumbling her over onto her back beneath him. Enough, little wildcat--- time enough for that later. He lowered himself on top of her, resting his weight against her slender frame carefully. Now it's my turn.
She was all warm soft curves and lean lithe muscle under him, her body molding itself to his in delighted abandon. He got her shirt off, and nearly fumbled her brassiere, and finally tore the clasp loose--- a moment of roughness that left him shaken and her thrilled--- and then bent to stroke her bare skin with mouth and hands, slowly at first, his lips and fingers barely touching the soft pale skin at all, his tongue flicking out to tease her ribs gently.
She tangled her hands in his hair, pulled. Please, Derek... please. Little mocking laugh. I did it for you. Her thought was a pleading whine.
He laughed softly. Yes, my little wildcat... yes. And brought his head up and brushed his lips gently over her nipples, one at a time, feeling soft nubbled flesh that hardened deliciously under his kisses.
She cried out at that, and arched against his mouth... and it was really too simple a thing to take one small hard nub into his mouth. Different taste from the rest of her skin, this darker flesh, and the soft round yielding curve of her breast just beneath... a uniquely intimate sensation, at once wildly exciting and deeply soothing. He ran his tongue lightly over the very tip, where some instinct told him she'd be most sensitive.
Her cries gave way to deep guttural moans at that, and she wound her fingers in his hair and held his head to her as he flicked his tongue softly over the soft-hard flesh, then nibbled gently, feeling the soft/hard nub yield just a little....
She screamed, then, and tore at his back with her nails, raking violently until he felt wet warmth and knew she'd drawn blood.
And it was good, so good, to feel it--- at once familiar and strange, pain and warm human need--- and he cried out and arched into it, the sweet new marks over old scars that had never really healed... inside.
Her shields were down now, and he lost himself in her feelings--- nerves stimulated, mind and body hungry for touch--- drank her pleasure to the dregs and looked desperately for ways to give her more.
Because this moment was everything he needed in the world. His existence had narrowed to her voice and her flesh and her mind. And she... she was delighted with him, her thoughts all animal-innocent pleasure at his stroking and teasing, his mouth and hands and the weight of him on her.
What do you feel? she asked, her thoughts hot-hungry urgency. Let me feel you---
She had asked. How could he refuse?
And he opened his mind to her and let her feel the delight she brought him, the deep warm pleasure of touching her so completely. The feel of her skin, the different tastes and textures of her and what they did to him. And she leaned into it and pressed herself against him--- Here, touch me, take me, all of me, her thoughts a breathless cry--- as her pleasure fed a deep hunger within him and woke him to a level of passion he hadn't know he could feel.
And riding on that tide of shared sensation and delight, he slid his hands down her legs, still chastely clad, and rubbed the long lean muscles of her thighs. Hard muscle, yes... but also soft flesh and skin more sensitive than he'd have thought, feeling her pleasure ricochet through his mind and nerves.
Her hands traced a matching pattern down his legs... then back up to knead his buttocks in a rhythm unexpectedly stimulating---
Responding perhaps to his pleasure or her own earlier desires, she ran her hands around his waist to his belt, tugging urgently, clumsily---
And though it sent a violent pang of regret through him to lessen this delicious circuit of pleasure, he broke off a little ways and helped her with the buckle when her shaking slim hands couldn't manage, and let her push his pants down his hips.
He kicked them aside, impatiently... and with a shock that nearly killed his desire, he realized he was naked and vulnerable in front of her, as he'd never been with anyone since he could remember. Even as a child, he'd somehow managed that slight vestige of human dignity that some covering provided.
Or perhaps Castus had simply found it more convenient to leave him clothed.
Now, though, he was bare to her eyes and hands, utterly exposed. He wanted to die of shame.
But her eyes on him were wide and awed and delighted. She looked him up and down slowly, once and once again. Traced her eyes over him as if finding every line of his body. Her expression and her thoughts were a kind of utter innocent pleasure that he hadn't imagined existed.
Oh, Derek. Her thought was a soft murmur, wondering and utterly delighted. Oh, Derek.... Then, shyly, I'm almost drunk on this.
And hesitantly, she reached out a hand and rested it on his chest... then stroked one finger gently down to his navel.
He shivered at the caress, feeling his body warm to her touch... and to the sensual joyful heat in her mind.
She was pleased with him. That was what mattered.
He caught her hand, pressed it flat against his stomach... then let go. Enjoy... do what you like.
And for the second time, he let her touch as she would and lay passive under her cool and soothing hands. She traced shy uncertain patterns on his thighs, teasing him with promises. He groaned with it, unable to swallow the cry.
And her mind flared with pleasure at his voice, her thought touched his. Is this... what you want?
The words startled him; not a question he could remember being asked, not really. He gave her the only answer he could think of. If you're enjoying it.
She raised her head to look at him, her hair falling half over her face... then, slowly, deliberately, moved her hands between his legs.
He cried out in astonished shock at the intense and localized pleasure, her cool fingers on his flesh that seemed to burn with need. He was hard now, all embarrassment and fear forgotten in elemental arousal and anticipation of what she'd do next.
She caressed his erection in long firm strokes, almost a massage, then moved one hand higher, explored further. She stroked a finger up a hard ridge of muscle and he nearly lost control right then. "Unh---"
She drew back, laughing softly. Good?
The only answer he could manage was another groan.
And then her hands were on him again, stroking and teasing and probing until he was mindless with an animal pleasure he had never imagined he could feel. He lost all sense of specificity, only the awareness of aching arousal and the promise of satisfaction....
One of those welcome cool hands left him, and he bit back a cry of anguish--- looked up to see her struggling impatiently one-handed with the snap-closure of her pants.
That brought him back, to himself... and to her. To his responsibility... his purpose--- and the pleasure it brought, a selfless and therefore guiltless enjoyment in her pleasure. Here, little wildcat, he said gently, taking her hand in one of his--- and resisting firmly the temptation to guide it back to his own hard hot ache--- let me do that.
He needn't have worried; the minute he released her hand so that he could begin dealing with her belt, her lovely strong fingers resumed their intimate stroking. He got the waistband of her pants open and eased them down over her hips, slowly, his fingers trailing along her hips and buttocks and thighs, luxuriating in the curves of cool skin and the long lean lines of muscles that rippled with pleasure under his caress. She shuddered violently, and her caressing hands on his erection jerked spasmodically--- a jolt of pleasure-pain he hadn't expected and which nearly drove him to forget what she was due from him.
But he lifted her gently and got her out of her pants and her underwear--- both of which she kicked aside with a violent urgent motion. And she rolled onto her back in an abject and eager display, and looked up at him, eyes all languid heat.
What do you think? So much packed into that one question--- she needed so much for him to take her seriously....
So he did. He looked her up and down, from slim long legs and lean hips--- flicked his eyes carefully over the soft inviting patch of hair between her thighs--- up along her belly to the twin soft curves of her breasts... her lovely long neck... finally to the proud lift of her chin and her deep grey eyes.
Beautiful. He had known all along what he would say... but she thrilled to hear it, wriggled all over and scissored her legs... most invitingly.
Oh, Derek... touch me. Please... everywhere....
So he did--- for long moments stroked his hands up and down her sides and her breasts, territory by now warmly familiar and sensitized to his touch... then down those long and lovely legs, tracing the lines of muscle that spasmed eagerly under his fingers... then back up the insides of her thighs, smooth flesh that no one's hands but her own had ever touched before.
He saw that in her mind, even as he felt her nerves crackle under his slow, featherlight touch, felt her respond to him with utter abandoned anticipation.
And he knew then that she had expected this, from the time she'd begun to feel the first stirrings of adult desires--- not merely expected it, but schooled herself to him--- had wanted no one but him and had prepared her body to respond to his touch and no other.
The weight of it overwhelmed him, nearly drove him mad with shock and longing. She had made her body his, completely, not merely saved herself for him, but had wrapped all her desires around the desire for him.
Her thought came to him, a little shy, but mostly lost in arousal. Of course, she sent on a wave of sensuous heat, who else would I want? Who else could give me what I want... and need?
Which was, of course, his purpose.
That shock--- that she accepted him, wanted him... would behis purpose--- was enough to break the last of his barriers, so that their minds joined in a close ecstatic union as their bodies wanted to and each knew what the other felt... so that he knew, intimately, just what his touch did to her....
Drove her mad.
Maigrey arched desperately under Derek's too-gentle touch and cried aloud. "Ohhhhhh---"
Hush, little wildcat. He rubbed her thighs gently, strong callused hands tracing up and down skin that was only too ready to respond---
God help her. She could hardly think. Not that she wanted to. This was what she'd wanted for so long---
Except when it wasn't. All her fantasies involved something a lot more violent, rougher and more urgent, where she made him lose that interminable self-control until he could only takeher....
Then his hand moved between her thighs, and all notions of what she'd thought she wanted went out the window.
Oh... Derek.... He was stroking the entrance to her body, his callused fingers light and gentle, just toying with the folds of skin.
She couldn't count how many times she'd touched herself that way and imagined him deep inside her and thrusting....
His finger rubbed against that especially sensitive spot, just a casual brush---
She couldn't help it: she screamed and pushed up against him, rocking in a desperate rhythm against his touch.
He stroked her again, almost teasing; she reached up and clawed at him, raking his back with her nails--- delicious guilty pleasure, that, to hurt him and have him take it, to get inside him....
Oh Derek don't tease me--- It was so good... to have his hand there, to feel the pleasure and know it was him giving it to her....
She felt his hand slide under her hips, his fingers kneading at her back in a gentle motion that eased some of that unbearable longing... at least a little... while with his other hand he sent explosive waves of delight through her whole body. She pushed against him and screamed helplessly, voice and mind---
Please, more? The thought of welcoming him into her body as he was in her mind was unbearably sensuous... to say nothing of the pure physical pleasure of the act itself....
Yes, little wildcat. And, ever so gently, he slid his finger up inside her.
She nearly climaxed right then, the violent surge of pleasure-pain he sent through her almost driving her over the edge altogether. It was a strange sensation, at once invasion and offering, and she wanted to draw him down deep inside her and feel that touch all through her....
And she rocked against him hard and pressed that sensitive spot against his hand while he explored her with a methodical thoroughness so good to feel that it hurt---
She was going to climax, she couldn't help it, and oh, God, this wasn't how she wanted it---
No, Derek, no, not yet--- please, I want you inside me---
And oh, she did, wanted to feel him thrust deep within her and wanted to make him cry her name while she claimed him.
Not yet, little wildcat--- And he took his finger away and crushed her against him, warm hungry embrace that left her aching for penetration but satisfied a deeper need. They tangled together desperately and she lost herself in the all-over sensuous pleasure of his strong arms around her and the soft coarse hair on his chest brushing against her aching-hard nipples, and best of all his hard thick erection prodding between her thighs. She spread her legs against him and writhed, as much for the pleasure of feeling him all along her as to stimulate him. So good, God, so good....
Their minds were as close-intimate as their bodies and it was easy to feel what he wanted....
You like that? she asked him, wondering... even as she drew her nails down his back in a brutal caress.
And felt the dizzy heat of his mind as he answered only, Yes.
And opened himself to her and let her for the first time feel his pleasure.
Feel the white-hot hunger she roused in him and the deeper, all-consuming delight of touching her, looking at her... and feeling her respond to him....
Which was all she wanted... and all she could want in return from him....
So she gave vent to her own hungry need and tore at his flesh and got inside him... while his strong hands came down to knead her buttocks, hard steady rhythm that sent deep warm waves of pleasure through her.
And he turned his head and buried his lips against her neck, his breath warm on her skin, his mouth kneading sensitive nerves until she was whining in pleasure. She scraped at his back and tangled one hand in his long thick hair--- deep innocent pleasure that!--- to hold him to her.
He rocked against her in a steady insistent rhythm, his hard hot erection pushing urgently at the entrance to her body... rubbing against the sensitive spot as his finger had... only better... because this way she could have his satisfaction and hers at once....
Derek, please, now? She was reduced to whining, sobbing as she pushed herself against him and met his rhythm with her own.
Yes, my little wildcat... yes, now. He pushed back from her, leaning over her, his long hair hanging into her face--- delicious caress in itself!--- and knelt between her legs.
For a moment, he paused there, looking down at her, while she gazed up into his eyes and thought that this moment, of anticipation and pleasure, was heaven itself. This moment, when he looked at her as if she were the most precious thing in the galaxy---
My little wildcat... of course you are. He stroked her cheek with a gentle hand... then drew back....
The first gentle nudge of his erection brought a shockwave of pleasure, the feel him of him at the entrance to her body, that slight insistent pushing.... She started to rock against him, to take him deeper---
No, little wildcat. He rested a warm heavy hand on her belly, pushed her hips flat against the bed. Easy... easy....
She arched up to him, writhing helplessly while he slowly, slowly eased himself a little way into her.
This was delicious, this stretching sensation, somewhere on the border between pain and pleasure, intensely stimulating. She felt a wave of languid heat wash over her, drowning her in delight.
He drew out of her--- she cried out, and he bent to kiss her open mouth... even as he slid into her again, a little further this time.
That was even better, to have the feel of him in her, his long hard erection sliding into her, almost too large for her... which was perfect, really, the pain and the pleasure mingling to drive her wild.
Please, Derek... I want everything---
But he ignored her, moving slowly back and forth, rocking his way into her, slowly and gently, until she wanted to scream---
And then he hit a barrier inside, a place that wouldn't yield, and she was suddenly grateful that he'd been so gentle... because this hurt. Really hurt, not the pleasure-pain. She bit her lip on a yelp.
Shhhh, little wildcat--- easy--- His hand on her stomach kneaded the suddenly-taut muscles. Relax... just relax....
It was habit to trust him... and the warm solid strength of his body both aroused her and soothed her... so that she lay back under him and let her body go limp, inside and out.
And he moved against her, slowly, just a slight rocking motion, until the barrier inside her gave way with a little sharp ache---
He rocked against her for another moment, slowly--- then drew out---
Before she could even form a protest in her mind, he eased himself into her, still slowly, but this time certain and steady, until he was firmly against her.
She cried out, a little gasping sob, and twined her arms and legs around him and felt him, deep within her, that large hot hardness seeming to touch every part of her.
And she had him, oh God she had him, possessed him and claimed him as she'd always dreamed of doing.... She clasped him to her, arms and legs, and tightened her inner muscles around his erection until he groaned aloud.
And then he pushed her back a little ways, and she thought she'd upset him... but it was only so that he could move inside her, drawing back and thrusting into her in a slow teasing rhythm....
He let her rock against him, though he held her hips down so she couldn't arch. And he moved against her slow and hard, each thrust bringing him firmly against her, pushing against that sensitive little spot above the entrance to her body---
It sent a shockwave of pleasure vibrating through her every time he did that, so that she cried out and tried to press against him, and rocked and pleaded with him for more....
He upped the pace, slowly, agonizingly, and clasped her close and held her so she could bury her face in his shoulder--- comfort and pleasure at once--- even as his lips brushed her temple. She parted her lips on his neck and suckled, denied any other outlet for the violent part of her need---
Until she couldn't bear it anymore. Damn you!--- and sunk her teeth into his collarbone
Thought the link, she felt the sudden shockwave of delightful agony it sent through him--- felt it shatter the last of his self-control---
He thrust into her, hard and abandoned, and let her arch up to him as she pleased. Her whole world narrowed to that hot silky hardness driving into her--- just like she'd dreamed, his control gone completely, only better, because she herself was more than ready, more than desperate, was nothing but hot slick aching need for his thrusts---
And the pleasure, the ball of lightning inside her, was building itself to a thunderbolt, an ecstatic violent languor that felt as if every nerve would explode---
And they did. The climax rippled through her and she spasmed violently and shrieked... and felt him spend his own climax inside her, drawing out the last of her own ecstasy with his.
And then they lay collapsed together in a sweaty tangle of arms and legs.
She shuddered and trembled under him, every muscle in her body twitching in the aftermath of ecstatic release. She never wanted to move again....
As if in answer to her thought, Derek's mind touched hers. I may never move again.
His words sent a wave of quiet euphoria--- counterpoint to their moment of ecstasy--- through her, and she marshaled her strength and managed to hug him close. I never want you to.
He chuckled gently, brushed his mouth over her temple, and touched her mind just as softly. My little wildcat... did I keep my promise to your satisfaction?
She laughed aloud, feeling giddy-drunk with repletion. You know you did. She felt her face flush as she realized the other side of that question. What about you? Was I--- did I---
You were perfect, little wildcat. Just what I needed. His thoughts radiated the same kind of rich warm satiation she felt.
She moaned softly, his words touching her and exciting her deep inside. She ran her tongue lightly over his throat, his shoulder---
Tasted blood where she'd bitten him. I'm sorry.
Eh? Mental flicker of amusement. That? Don't be sorry.
And, under the sharp words, memory-flash of how much he'd liked it. Good.
She nestled underneath him, loving the warm bulk of him on top of her, the way his weight pinned and held and cradled her... the way the joining of their bodies felt, for once as close physically as mentally.
On that thought--- he started to roll off her. She hugged him close, arms and legs, preventing him.
He raised himself up on his elbows, looked down at her. I don't want to crush you---
You're not. It feels good. And I don't want to lose--- She let him feel her sense of their bodies joined together, the subtle lingering stimulation it gave her.
He chuckled, voice and mind. All right, little wildcat---And he rolled them over, holding her close, keeping them locked together as he brought her to rest on top of him.
She pressed her cheek against his chest, rubbed against him a little, loving the feel of the coarse black hairs against her still-sensitive nipples. He groaned softly, his hand stroking the tangle of her hair up and down her back.
Oh, good--- A second round. She tightened her hold on him... in all senses.
He gasped. Not yet, my little wildcat... just... give me a minute....
She eased off at once, settled back onto his chest and forced herself to take deep slow breaths while he held her and did the same. It was enough for the moment to feel him inside her and to press herself to him and be cuddled....
A thought occurred to her. "Little wildcat"--- you haven't called me that in years.
He brushed his lips over her forehead. Pet names are for children... or adults. Not someone in-between.
She understood his words... and what the words meant, what he couldn't say. The waiting had been hard for him too, then.
Their minds were still tangled up in each other enough that he caught that thought and laughed. Oh, most assuredly. And you--- a gentle nip on her earlobe--- didn't make it easy, little wildcat.
She smiled up at him. I didn't want to.
I know. Another gentle kiss to her forehead, soothing now rather than teasing. It was better to wait.
No point in arguing, now that she'd gotten what she wanted. I don't see how anything could have been better than tonight.
He laughed, softly. That was only our first try, little wildcat.
The warm physical joining between them suddenly felt white-hot. Practice makes perfect, doesn't it, Derek?
And so they did.
*****
It was two more times and nearly ship's morning before Maigrey fell asleep, curled up with her back against his body... just like she'd done as a child.
A child. Sagan stroked the lovely sweep of her hip and side, ran teasing fingertips over her the small high curves of her breasts, like perfectly carved marble and rubies. Not a child any longer. She'd damn near shocked him once or twice.
Not that the acts themselves had shocked him--- he'd been past sexual shock at an age when most children still found kissing repulsive. But that she would want to perform those acts... that shocked him. He hadn't imagined such things could be enjoyed for themselves.
But whatever Maigrey wanted, she got. Always. That was the bargain he'd made with his life. After all, she'd given him everything that he had in that life.
A child.... His thoughts faded back--- not to the darkness and pain of the monastery, but the time after that and before her.
The Academy. An academically challenging dumping ground for the children of the Blood Royal. That was all it really was.
Not that his classmates had cared. Most of them were simply glad to escape from the confines of their families... with far less cause than he had.
But unlike those over-pampered little creatures--- all of whom could expect to inherit something of value from those families... he had nothing to look forward to. His life had left him essentially fit for nothing except a return to the darkness and cold of the monastery. He'd considered his time at the Academy in the nature of a respite... a time when he wasn't hungry or cold or hurting. Just... nothing. Empty.
And then... Maigrey.
He'd never tried to sort out exactly what she meant to him; impossible really, with no other guideposts, no standard for that meaning: there was no one else in his life.
That night when she'd snuck in his window and climbed into his lap had given him a purpose.
Before, he'd thought only that his existence was simply a horrid mistake, some kind of Divine oversight... or a punishment to his father. Nothing more. A complete waste, really, now that he'd served his purpose of being his father's penance, bringing the shame of the man's sin to light.
He'd often rather wished that God would simply let him die. And wondered why not.
Until a lonely little girl found her way into his arms and his mind and his heart.
And he knew then. Maigrey... who was as different in her own way from the rest of the Blood Royal as he. Who was used to having love, in great quantity... and whose need for that love could put her at risk for the same kind of sin he'd committed.
That was what he was for. To give her the love she needed, to protect her and cherish her and give her all that he was.
And in return... he could belong to someone. He could have a purpose, after all, and a little warmth and care. He hadn't even known what those were.
The first night she'd stayed with him--- curled up in his arms like a kitten--- was the first night he could remember when he didn't have nightmares.
That alone would have been enough to merit his devotion.
As for the rest... she was his life, pure and simple. It was for her he'd started his career in the Navy: Maigrey wanted to be a pilot; Maigrey should therefore have the chance to fly--- with the whole galaxy as her playground.
As for the other... what else she'd asked of him, as she went from child to woman... that was only more of the same. For her. All for her. She needed it, and he could give her what she needed, without hurting her.
And he'd never really expected to enjoy satisfying someone's... need. That was another gift she'd given him.
Maigrey stirred in her sleep, nestling back against him and whimpering softly. Automatically, he put an arm over her, to protect her.
At once, she quieted, curled close and pulled his arm to her like a warm blanket.
He sighed in deep contentment and lay down next to her, drew her back into his arms.
She was pleased with him. All was as it should be.