In the early hours of the morning, Wheeler woke to find Linka curled up against his chest. A content smile spread across his face, tinged only slightly by the lingering disbelief that she was actually there, her naked body pressed against his. Protectively, he tightened his arms around her, relishing the feel of her skin. Just as he seemed to emit the faint smell of smoke wherever he went, Linka embodied the scent of her element. Tonight she smelled of the ocean breeze, cool and fresh and calming. Wheeler couldn't help himself, pressing his nose to her hair and inhaling hard. He ran a hand through the ends of her curls, liking the feel of them as they slid through his fingers. Her tresses were as soft and silky as her skin, the difference in them seamless as his finger trailed from ringlet to shoulder.
He allowed himself a moment to trace patterns on her back, his fingers light, the movement slow. He didn't want to wake her, didn't want to pull her from her well-earned sleep. He simply wanted to take a moment to touch her, to memorise the feel of her in his arms. She was so soft and sweet, so sleep-warm and lovely. Wheeler was already hard, utterly aroused by her smell and proximity, and he took a deep breath, trying to call common sense back to his mind.
He had to take this slow, he reminded himself. He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to frighten her. No, he wanted this experience to be as pleasurable for her as it was for him, if not more so. With another deep breath, he lowered his hand, holding her close and closing his eyes, hoping to sleep his arousal away.
"You have stopped touching me," a whisper of a voice complained, and Wheeler's eyes flew open once more, only to meet Linka's. She was staring at him thoughtfully, her irises the colour of dew-covered grass in the early morning light. For a moment Wheeler was mesmerised. He'd seen her eyes bright in the afternoon sunshine and sharp in the dark of night, just as he'd seen them flash with anger and go wide with fright. But never before had he seen them like this, warm and hazy and full of the promise of spring. He loved her eyes, had always loved them. He loved how they changed colour with her moods and temper. He loved how they reflected light back at him. He thought he knew all the shades of green her eyes could take; had long ago assumed he'd memorised them all. Staring into her eyes and finding the colour of meadows within, his stomach flipped happily. He'd never been more delighted to be proven wrong.
"Yeah," he told her, burrowing down to kiss the tip of her nose. "It's early. Didn't want to wake you."
She sighed, smiling up at him. "But I like your hands on me. You can wake me for that. Any time you like, Yankee."
He grinned at her. "I'm gonna hold you to that, Babe. But later. Get some sleep. We have work today."
He pushed a stray strand of hair from her face, pulling her closer to him, hoping the combined warmth of their bodies would lull her back to sleep. But Linka made no move to close her eyes, still gazing at him with that thoughtful expression, a soft sigh emitting from her lips.
"But I am awake now," she said, almost petulantly. Her hand trailed across his stomach, before it dipped lower, over the fabric of his shorts, tracing the line of his hip.
"Lin—" he began, almost warningly, but she smiled softly, her fingers dipping lower again, until she found what she was searching for. Instantaneously, her soft smile was replaced by a knowing, Cheshire Cat grin, and she licked her lips as Wheeler moaned.
"I am awake," she said again, "and it would seem you are too."
"Lin—" he gasped again, trying to wrest control of this situation, but she tutted lightly, her hand squeezing him again with delicate fingers, and he moaned, his head falling back against the pillows.
"Let me play," she whispered. "I thought you liked it when I... how did you phrase it? Ah, yes. When I threw crumbs."
"This ain't throwin' crumbs, Babe," he whispered back. "This is you throwin' a two course meal my way."
She raised an eyebrow at him quizzically. "Only two courses? So, tell me, what would a three course meal be?"
He grinned at her even as she cupped and stroked him through the fabric of his shorts, pleasure shooting through him and making him arch up into her hand. "Keep doin' that and you'll find out."
"I like that idea," she replied. She touched him again, before chewing on her lip. "Can I look?" She asked hesitantly. "I have never seen... that is, uh, I have been curious and..." she trailed off, a blush flushing over her cheeks, and Wheeler felt his breath catch in his throat.
She was still so innocent, in so many ways. This clever, contained, and worldly woman, who Wheeler had seen obliterate enemies with just one gust of air, who he'd seen crawl into smoking volcanoes to rescue others, who he'd seen debate and argue with crooked politicians and corporate polluters, still retained a sliver of guilelessness despite their workload. She was twenty-one, and although she'd seen more countries than most others, had fought battles and willingly walked through disaster zones, she'd never seen an aroused man naked. In that moment, Wheeler wanted to kiss her, and badly too.
It was strange, this feeling. Wheeler had never considered himself to be the kind of guy who'd be turned on by virginity or the kind of innocence Linka was displaying now. When it came to his previous lovers, he'd always been a strictly 'need to know' kind of man. When a girl was in his bed and in his arms, he didn't give a shit how many men she'd slept with previously. Forty-five ex-boyfriends? Fine, good for her. He was happy to be forty-six. A kink for toys and or sex swings? Turn them on and strap him in. A raging STD? Ah, well, that was a problem, and before she left would she care to take some leaflets and a number for planned parenthood?
But here, with Linka, something was different. Her innocence made his insides flutter and heart skip a beat. And he knew instinctively it wasn't because she was a virgin, or inexperienced with men. He'd slept with a virgin once before and hadn't felt like this. No, he suspected his arousal now was entirely to do with the fact that it was Linka's innocence he was experiencing, and that this slow, almost torturous process between them was revealing a facet to her he'd never known before. A facet he was enthralled by, and wanted to explore further.
"Yeah," he said through a mouth that had gone dry. "You can look. You can do whatever you want," he added, his voice husky.
She gave him a shy smile, before sitting up in bed, the covers dropping around her and revealing to him, once again, the glorious curves of her body. He watched, expectation and anticipation building within him, as she moved to straddle him, lifting one long leg and dropping it over his thigh. Wheeler's mouth, dry just moments before, now watered with longing. He reached forward, resting his hands on her thighs, stroking her softly.
"You," he said softly, "are gonna be the death of me, I'm sure of it."
"I would not want that," she murmured in response, catching his gaze and holding it. "I like you too much to ever want to hurt you."
There it was again, that small flip to Wheeler's stomach. Affection for her ran through him, and it was just enough to make him pause. This was meant to be just sex, he reminded himself sternly. Lovers in one room only. It was supposed to be a convenient arrangement between two friends, with rules and strict boundaries. He wasn't meant to feel like this, with waves of happiness running through him at Linka's touch and presence. Determined to distract himself, he tightened his hold on Linka's legs, hungrily eyeing the soft curves of her thighs pressed against his, the plane of her stomach, the roundness of her breasts, topped with dusky pink nipples. Unable to help himself, he sat up, pressing one hand on her back and sucking one into his mouth. He heard Linka gasp, felt her head tip back as she arched her body towards him.
"It is meant to be my turn to play, Yankee," she objected, but it was a weak complaint, her voice low and breathy.
Wheeler's response was simply to move to her other breast, and for a moment she held him there, her hands in his hair, gripping him tightly as he worked her nipple in his mouth. She was gyrating her hips against him, seeking friction and pleasure, and Wheeler was more than happy to offer it.
He could come from this alone, he realised dazedly. From just the feel of Linka above him, one of her beautiful breasts in his mouth, he could come, spending himself early like a lustful and inexperienced youth. He had to slow this down, he told himself. He had to take back control.
But Linka suddenly pulled away, grinning down at him again like a mischievous cat. "I said it was my turn to play," she reminded him, "and you are distracting me."
Wheeler shrugged, splaying his fingers across the skin of her thighs, missing the feel of her in his mouth already. "So, sue me," he told her. "I've thought about this a lot over the past few years... can't blame me for wantin' to play too, now you're in my grasp."
She stared at him, her eyes suddenly thoughtful. "What did you think of?" She asked, her voice serious.
He shrugged again. "I already told you I'd thought about this. About—"
"—doing stuff to me," Linka finished for him. "Yes, I know. But what stuff?"
He stared at her. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," she said slowly, shimmying down his body so that she straddled his knees. "What stuff did you think of?"
"I, uh..." Wheeler began, suddenly wordless when she began to stroke him through the thin fabric of his shorts. "I, umm..."
"You thought of my body?" she asked him, pulling her hands away from the throbbing hardness she'd incited and running them over her breasts. "Naked, like this?"
"Yeah," Wheeler rasped, watching her with wide, appreciative eyes.
She dropped her hands back to him again, stroking him a little more firmly. "What happened? How did you get me naked, in your imagination?"
"Babe," he whispered, as she began to pull his shorts from his hips, rolling the fabric gently down his legs so that he sprang free, large and hot in her hands. "Babe."
"You said I could look," she replied quietly. "Or would you like me to stop? I do not—"
"Don't stop," he said, his voice almost an order. "For the love of God, don't stop now."
She smiled at him, before licking her lips, making them look even more plush in the light of the rising sun, which filtered in through his window. She took him once more in her hands, running them over him, her touch soft and curious. He dropped his head back against the pillow, exhaling hard, his body alive with pleasure. She seemed to notice the movement, and she ran a finger along the tip of his length, making him jolt beneath her.
"Does it hurt when I do that?" she asked. "Does this hurt you?"
"No," he replied instantly. "No, it doesn't hurt. It feels fucking amazing."
"Good," she nodded, her eyes warm. "I want you to feel good. I want you to feel as good as the way you made me feel."
He exhaled again, feeling once more that tremulous adoration for her go through him. He had to get a grip on this, he told himself once more. He couldn't keep stopping to... to... what the fuck even was this feeling? Wheeler closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of her hands wrapped around him, exploring and playing and caressing. He'd never felt like this with any of his other lovers, and it added an intensity to their sexual interactions he hadn't been expecting. Linka was so wonderful, and so beautiful, and so kind and clever and he absolutely—
"We'd be on a mission," he blurted out suddenly, stopping his mind from travelling any further down a path he knew led only to trouble.
Linka's hands stilled. "What?"
"You asked, in my head, how I got you naked? We'd be on a mission," he explained, still hopelessly trying to distract himself, to bring this situation back to sex and sex only.
"A mission?" Linka asked, her hands picking up pace once more. "What kind of a mission?"
"Ice. A mountain. Somewhere cold," he muttered, jolting again as she smoothly brought her hand up and down his length. "We'd get separated from the others... we'd find an old cabin, abandoned somewhere in the storm."
"Lost in a storm..." Linka mused, smiling as she touched him. "I like that. But tell me, how did you get me naked?"
"You'd be cold," Wheeler replied. "You'd be wet from the snow. You'd take off your jacket, and your nipples would be pointing through your shirt. You'd let me put my hands on them, ask me to help warm them up."
"Like this?" Linka asked him, gently taking his hands from her hips and resting them on her breasts. "You would warm them like this?"
He throbbed in her hands. "Fuck, yes."
She nodded. "Tell me more. What happened once your hands were on me?"
"You'd tell me all about how..." he moaned lightly as she applied more pressure, "... about how the best way to get warm was to be naked, skin to skin and sharing heat. So, we'd both strip off, climb under the covers of a bed."
"There was a bed?" Linka asked, a hint of skepticism to her voice.
"Hey, it was a fantasy," Wheeler shrugged. "When I fuck a girl in my dreams, I fuck her right."
She laughed, and the sound was so high, so pure and natural that happiness swelled inside of him. "You fucked me in this dream?"
"Yeah," Wheeler told her. He moaned again as her hands began to move faster, working him hard. "We'd be under the covers, naked and skin to skin, and you'd let me touch you. You'd be hesitant at first, not wanting to ruin our friendship, but you'd also be wet under my fingers as I explored you. After a few minutes, you'd be begging me to make you come, to warm you up, to fuck you hard. You'd let me kiss and lick you all over and the moment I slid inside you—" he stopped as a tidal wave of pleasure went through him. "Fuck, Lin, I'm gonna come if you keep doin' that."
"Good," Linka replied. "That is exactly what I want. I want you to come. I want you to feel good."
"Lin—" he warned again, as he arched up into her hand.
But Linka didn't stop, her hand moving over him in a steady, pleasurable rhythm that had him coming within seconds. He bit down on his lip as he emptied himself into her hands, moving his hips and calling out her name. When the moment passed, he took a deep, rasping breath, looking up to her. She was staring at her fingertips, at the sticky mess that coated them.
"Sorry," he said instantly. "I'm so sorry, Babe, I didn't want to frighten you or..." his words trailed off as he watched Linka smile.
"You do not need to be sorry, Yankee," she said softly. "That was most enlightening. I very much enjoyed it."
"You enjoyed it?"
"Yes," she nodded. "Very much so. I liked seeing you like that," she explained, a shy smile crossing her face. "I do not know if I should admit this, but I liked seeing you almost, what is the word? In my power?"
He chuckled. "Yeah. I'm not gonna argue with that. Where you're concerned, Babe, I'm pretty helpless. In your hands entirely, excuse the pun."
She looked down at her spend-coated fingers once more, laughing with him. He couldn't help himself, sitting up and wrapping an arm around her waist, pressing his lips to hers. He kissed her deeply, relishing in the fact that she immediately kissed him back, and it was passionate but not sexy, this kiss. He was kissing her out of affection rather than desire, and out of love rather than—
He immediately stopped, pulling away and frowning at her. "You, um, better go and get cleaned up."
A frown, slight and so quick he might have imagined it, crossed her face. "Perhaps, yes, I should."
"There's soap in the shower," he said, clearing his throat. "That should help take off... umm..."
But Linka looked at her fingers, as though lost in thought.
"Babe?" he asked in concern, and she looked back to him, her eyes meeting his.
"I am just wondering something," she said, and slowly, her eyes still locked on his, she brought one of her fingers to her lips and sucked it into her mouth. Wheeler inhaled sharply, and even though he'd just come, even though it shouldn't have been possible, all the blood in his body seemed to travel south again, and so quickly it made his head spin.
When Linka removed her finger from her mouth, she gave a sheepish grin. "I always wanted to know what you tasted like," she explained lightly, and Wheeler's mouth watered.
"When we get a chance to be together again," he said, his words sudden and firm. "I'm gonna remember you doin' that."
"Is that a good thing?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "It's a very good thing." He eyed her sharply. "How come I went years not knowin' how sexy you could be?"
Linka blushed. "You think I am sexy?"
"Yes," he replied immediately. "Beautiful inside and out, and sexy as hell. How'd I get so lucky?"
"Luck has nothing to do with it," Linka smiled, standing up and giving Wheeler yet another view of her amazing figure. She stretched, before reaching for a towel on the floor.
"A guy like me and a girl like you?" Wheeler raised an eyebrow. "Luck's gotta be at least a little part of it, Babe."
But as Linka wrapped the towel around her body, she gazed at him fondly. "No," she disagreed. "You are a good man who has always been kind to me. You are handsome and genuine. You are my best friend in the whole world. My being here with you, in this room, like this, has nothing to do with luck."
Wheeler sighed, putting his arms behind his head and resting on them. "Really?"
"Really. It is not luck, Yankee... you have earned my trust. You, on your own merits. I am here because I want to be. You did not need luck, or chance, or... I do not know, for us to be lost in a storm," she smiled at him. "All you needed to do was be you."
Wheeler made no reply, locking eyes with her and holding her gaze. A feeling, sublime and dangerous, began to creep down his spine and he worried about its presence. "You better cleaned up," he replied bluntly. "We gotta get to work soon."
For a moment, just a moment, Linka looked wounded. But then he saw her straighten, and she nodded at him.
"Of course," she said coolly, before she disappeared into the bathroom.
Wheeler lay on his bed, thoughts swirling through his mind like a tropical storm. This was just sex, he told himself again. They were just fucking around. No, scratch that, they were friends who were just fucking around. He tapped his fingers on the covers of his blanket worriedly, trying to bring reason back to his fevered mind. His affection for Linka was that only of a friend, he argued with his mind. He wasn't, like, in love with her or anything—
Standing abruptly, Wheeler shook that thought away as quickly as it came. He followed Linka into the bathroom, pulling at the faded shower curtain. She was standing under the water, soap in her hands, staring at him with wide eyes. Water ran in rivulets down her body, and Wheeler reached out, tracking one of the streams with his fingers, tracing her shoulder and breast and stomach before dipping his hand between her legs. She inhaled sharply, watching silently as Wheeler stepped into the shower beside her. He dropped to his knees, hooking one of her legs over his shoulder.
"Lean on the wall," he ordered her, "and play with your breasts."
He nuzzled into her, and as he started to lick and kiss, Linka's breath coming in fevered pants above him, he clutched at one thought over and over.
This was just sex. It wasn't love.