MORNING AFTER

She woke up slowly; pleasantly languid in a way that was unfamiliar to her and aching in a way that was strangely comforting, uncertain what had roused her from the heavy depths of sleep. Her eyelids fluttered, torn between waking, to seek whatever had disturbed her slumber, and sinking back into the welcoming arms of slumber.

As she lay there, balancing on the precipice between sleep and waking, sensation began to intrude. The sheets against the skin of her stomach and little else. Gentle sunlight filtering in through the closed blinds. A pillow, soft against her cheek, its scent too earthy and masculine to be her own. Soft, warm, moist, pressure leisurely running the bare length of her spine.

This last, finally, pulled her to full alertness and she tensed beneath the gentle touches, the scent of the room registering at last.

Dingo.

He continued to press almost lazy kisses up the line of her back, though he clearly knew she was awake now.

"Morning," he rumbled into the flesh between her shoulder blades, and she shivered.

"M-morning," she stammered, embarrassed. She didn't know where the sheets were, but they weren't covering any part of her. Memories of the night before came flooding into her mind and her skin burned in what she knew was a full blush. Last night had been amazing, everything she'd dreamed of and more, the perfect birthday celebration and hopefully –almost definitely, Dingo being who he was– so much more. She didn't regret it. Could never regret it. It had been mutual and natural and wonderful. But somehow here, in the light of day, some prudish part of herself she hadn't known existed insisted on rearing its head and she had to fight the urge to roll over and pull the bed linens around her.

Dingo chuckled, which only made it worse.

"What?" she snapped.

His finger traced down the line of her spine. "Did you know that when you blush it goes all the way down to your—"

"Dingo!" she yelped as the finger dipped down into the crack of her ass.

"Toes," he finished, all innocence, and he leaned up to peer around her hair and into her face, eyes twinkling merrily. "What did you think I was going to say?"

She flushed even brighter and buried her face in the pillow. "Idiot," she accused, though it lacked any true conviction.

He hummed against the nape of her neck, causing a pleasant shudder to ripple through her.

"So beautiful," he murmured, and the kisses resumed.

She wanted to melt. Wanted to turn and encourage his kisses elsewhere. To take him in hand and make him shudder with pleasure as she had. But she couldn't.

So damn embarrassing.

His hands swept her back and then grasped her waist lightly, and he somehow managed to hold his weight on his elbows and turn her at the same time. Her hands flew to cover her face in mortification as it suddenly occurred to her why she was so unsettled.

Last night had been dark, but now Dingo could see everything.

Angela had nothing to be embarrassed about, she knew. Her physical body was based on her actual genetic material, but the DEVA grown material construct had been created without an ounce of excess fat or inch of un-toned muscle. On top of that, she had been blessed with the extreme hourglass figure popular both on DEVA and on the surface. Several years of living on the surface had taken none of that from her, though her skin now had a healthy tan and had lost its baby softness.

She didn't know where this sudden insecurity came from, but she didn't like it, she decided. Unfortunately, she also couldn't seem to shake it.

Dingo gently pried her fingers from her face.

"Hey," he prompted softly. "Ange? What is it?"

She shook her head, angry at herself for this sudden childish behavior, but unable to stop it. She'd never been in this kind of situation before, this kind of relationship, and this stupid physical body and its myriad of unfamiliar involuntary physical reactions still got the better of her at the worst moments.

"Angela?"

He sounded truly concerned and she forced her eyes open a crack to meet his worried chocolate gaze.

"You okay?" he asked. His fingers ghosted over her figure as though searching for physical injury and she squirmed.

"I'm fine," she insisted. His gentle touch persisted and she caught one wrist in her hand before it could travel further south. The other escaped her and brushed a very sensitive location. "Dingo!" she practically yelped. "Stop it."

He froze. It was startling, his sudden, utter stillness. Carefully he retracted both hands, propping himself up to peer down at her.

"Angela, did I hurt you?" he asked, tone careful, expression strangely neutral.

Hurt her? What was he talking about?"

"You said it was this body's first time," he continued, concern creeping back across his features. "I guess I got a little carried away. You should have said something if—"

"Dingo," she cut him off. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, it's, you know, different for women. Ah, the uh, first time. And ours was more like a first half dozen. I guess I just assumed with our active lifestyle you wouldn't have to deal with the more negative side effects, but if you'd said something I would have reigned myself in."

She blinked at him, utterly mystified. "Side effects?" she echoed.

Dingo frowned down at her and then abruptly pulled up to kneel over her. His eyes searched the lower half of her form and the flush returned with a vengeance.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, hands searching blindly for the sheets.

"There isn't any blood," he said.

"Why would there be blood? Dingo! Would you stop that!" She batted his hands away as they fell to her hips and nudged them upwards. "Dingo! What. Are. You. Doing?" she demanded. She gave up on his hands and grasped his chin, forcing him to look at her face instead of her . . . well, her.

He seemed confused by her confusion at first, but then slow comprehension dawned on his face. "Angela. How much do they teach you in DEVA about, um, biology?"

She frowned. "You mean plants and animals and all that?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, sort of. But, uh, I was referring more specifically to, um, human reproductive systems."

The frown deepened. "Nothing. Why would they? We don't have physical bodies. Didn't," she corrected herself. Physical children were created –obviously that was necessary to gain new combinations of DNA– but that was strictly a lab science and had nothing to do with sex. Sex was simply a vehicle for pleasure and sensation in the digital world.

"I see." His expression cleared slightly. "So, just to clarify, you're not in any pain?"

Angela shook her head. He pinned her with the most serious look she'd ever seen from him. "Um, a little achy," she admitted. "But it's, uh, it's good." She turned her face away to hide her embarrassed flush. It was good. Like the pleasant soreness that came after a good physical work out. Which she supposed what they'd done last night was, in a way.

"Mm hmm." Dingo's fingers lighted on her jaw, turning her back to face him. "Nothing more than that?"

She tried to push up on her elbows, only to be stopped by his hands on her shoulders. "Nothing else."

He studied her a moment. Then, seemingly satisfied, he lowered himself to give her a thorough kiss. His bare chest brushed hers and she gasped. He took full advantage, his tongue slipping in to caress hers. She shuddered, forgetting for a moment her embarrassment and the fact that they both had morning breath. When his hands began to drift once more, however, she froze.

He paused and pulled back to study her face again. His gaze narrowed and his head titled to one side, as though another angle would help him figure her out. She chewed her lip, certain her color was rising once more.

"Angela?" he asked, slowly, only this time there was something mischievous in that drawn out tone. Suddenly his gaze was all too knowing.

Please don't let him ask. Please don't let him ask. She chanted in her mind.

"Are you embarrassed?"

Of course he asked.

Heat flooded her and she knew she was once again blushing, all the way down to her . . . toes. She pulled the pillow up over her face, unable to meet his laughing gaze.

"Come on, Angela," he coaxed, tone warm and full of amusement, which only made this worse. "What do you have to be embarrassed about? If anything I should be the one embarrassed. I'm nearly an old man."

That was a shameless lie. He was not old. He was barely thirty. And if he had been old he would have even less reason for embarrassment – he was gorgeous. She had taken the time to note that when he'd been straddling her.

He tugged lightly on the pillow, but she refused to relinquish it.

"And anyway, weren't you the one who seduced me?" he asked. "I thought you were an old hat at this?"

She pulled the pillow tighter against her.

He paused and then continued, his tone speculative. "Unless that was a lie." Another pause. "Angela? Were you a virgin? I mean, you, not the body."

As if she was going to answer that now? Unfortunately not answering seemed to be just as telling.

"Oh Angela," he breathed, hands caressing her sides. The hint of wonder in his tone was almost enough to make her lower her defenses. Almost.

He shifted over her and a moment later a tender kiss was pressed to the side of her neck, just under her ear, making her gasp.

"Did you think I'd make fun of you?" he asked, voice a husky rasp against her ear. "God, Ange, I would never. I'm honored. Really I am."

She couldn't answer. She didn't know if the sudden lump in her throat was mortification or something more.

There was another long pause. Dingo shifted so that he was straddling her once more, but made no move to get off her.

A finger traced down her neck, across her collar bone, and around the swell of her breast causing her to release an undignified squeak.

Dingo chuckled. "I'd never have guessed, you know," he told her, tone teasing once more. "You're a natural."

"You're a moron," she shot back.

Somehow he understood her, even muffled by the bedding.

He pulled the pillow away and this time she let him.

He grinned down at her, love and laughter in his gaze. "But I'm your moron."

She smiled back, almost against her will. "Yes. You are."

They stared at each other a long, silent, moment, and then Dingo dipped his head to kiss her again. She sighed into the kiss, pressing up for more contact. He really was hers, wasn't he? And she was his. Every part of them belonged to the other: heart, mind, soul, and body. So there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

He left her mouth to trail kisses across her face and down her neck. "I love you," he whispered against the skin of her jaw.

The flush overtook her again, but this time she ignored it. Her hand tangled in the curls at his nape, guiding him upward to meet her steady gaze.

"I love you, Zarik Kajiwara." She favored him with a lopsided smile. "Even if you are an idiot."

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If you couldn't tell, this one is set immediately after FLIGHTSUIT. Not sure if I have to bump the rating up for this or not. I mean, they're naked and all, but there's nothing really explicit . . .

Thanks for reading,

reenas-as