Notes: This is my first official posting here at Terra Firma. I admit to more than a little nervousness here, so I hope this goes well and fits the prompt enough so as to be recognizable. Oh, there is one other thing. There is an alternate ending that I wrote to this, so if you get to the end and find yourself wanting a bit more smut and something a bit more…schmoopy, PM me and I will be happy to send that to you.
Since this is my first post, there was no beta. Sorry. Any and all mistakes are mine.
Setting: Post PKW
Spoilers: I don’t think so.
Disclaimer: They belong to Henson and Company, not me. No copyright infringement is intended. No money is being made.
“Damn it, Aeryn.” The boot he’d given up searching for last weeken whizzed past his ear. “Watch where you’re flinging that.”
He straightened and turned to face her, exhaling harshly as his hand came up a split microt too late and the boot’s mate thumped him squarely in the chest.
He shot his best double barreled glare at her across their quarters while she radiated the impression that she was alone in the cell and continued tossing his errant belongings from her side to his.
“My side, your side, Aeryn?” He snagged a flying pair of boxers he’d been looking for earlier.
She disappeared under her side of the bed.
He dodged a pair of jeans he hadn’t seen in a monen. “How long we gonna do this?”
He stalked to her side of the bed. She met him halfway and took a stance; stormy, blue-grey eyes flashing a warning.
“How long we gonna do this?” He sucked in a lungful of air, counted to ten, and lowered his voice. “You haven’t talked to me in three days except about the kids and who needed to be where doing what.”
He unclenched his fists. “I said I was sorry.” His hands came up, fingers rubbing hard at his temples. “I know things have been tense around here…”
She shoved a shirt at him and turned away. He tossed the shirt on the bed, followed her to the dresser. She pulled out a drawer and began shoving in socks.
“Wait a minute.” He pulled her arm back then dropped it quickly, threw a hand up palm out as her head swiveled and she locked him in her line-of-sight.
He shoved his hand into the drawer and came up with something he hadn’t seen before; gently curved, clear plastic. “What the hell is this?”
She grabbed it from him and tilted her head, her raised eyebrow suggesting he was slow. “The Hydra Gel Infrared Massager.”
He reached over and long fingers stroked the clear, plastic curve. “And what exactly is a Hydra Gel Infrared Massager?”
She waved a hand dismissively and dutifully recited as if from a field manual. “An innovation in massager technology that keeps the energy where it should be; in the massage head, not the handle.”
She cocked a hip and waved the wand. “It has four custom attachments and two intensity speed that lets you customize the experience.”
Eyes narrowing, he pulled his hand back, scratched his ear. “Customize the experience?”
She pinned him with a glare. “It relieves tension, John.”
“I get that.” Rubbing at the back of his neck, he dug deep, working for some control. “It’s a hand held back massager.” He threw up his hands. “How come I’ve never seen it before? When did we get it?”
“We didn’t get it. I did.” A proud smile pulled at her lips. “Nineteen ninety-five at Walmart, on sale for ten dollars.”
He eyeballed the clear plastic. “You got it on Earth?”
She leveled her best glare at him. “Unless there’s a Walmart that I’m unaware of in the Uncharteds.”
“Well, the least you could do is share, Aeryn.” He knew he was whining as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “I could stand to relieve some tension, too.”
She looked at him like he’d suddenly grown another head. “You need to relieve some tension?”
“Yeah. You haven’t talked to me in three days. Remember?” He backpedaled under her glare, hands up and out. “Ok. You’re tense, too. I get that...”
“I can take care of my own tension, thank you.” She bit down gently on her lower lip as she stepped back, slid closer to the bed.
His brain went off-line, its blood supply fleeing to regions further south. “It’s a…”
She held his eyes; her voice came low and throaty. “Would you like to watch?”
He wheezed a sound between a croak and a quack through a throat that was suddenly as tight as his pants. “I’m a guy, babe. Guys love to watch. Guys dream about this kind of thing.”
Her knees hit the mattress and without taking her eyes off his, she dropped the wand on the bed. She dipped her head, looked up at him through her lashes as exquisite fingers trailed up her body.
He worked on breathing as she ran a forefinger along the elegant line of her collar bone, dipped into the valley of her cleavage and tugged at the zipper on her vest, pulling slowly to reveal the gentle, pale swell of her breasts.
She shrugged suddenly, and the vest hit the floor.
His pulse pounded in his head; his eyes wide and locked on the sight of her breasts slowly swaying as she moved, trailing one fingertip down her midline to the waistband on her leathers.
Agile fingers unhooked and unzipped, exposing the pale, silken vee leading to…
He sucked in a ragged breath, nerve endings amped as want slammed into him, making him suddenly light headed as it flash-fired through him.
His fingers twitched with the memory of touching that spot, those places; his touch soaking her up and into his skin.
He needed his hands, his lips, his tongue there.
He simmered in his skin, hot and hard in pants that were too tight. His eyes were on fire, marking her; vision narrowed to the spot where her hands slid along her leathers, over the gentle slope of her hips, followed their descent as she shimmied, sliding their way down her long, lithe legs.
He could feel those legs wrapping him.
The leathers pooled at her feet and she stood before him, wreathed in a waterfall of hair that spilled over her shoulders, cascaded down her back.
She moved on silent feet, hips swaying; long, lean lines and lush curves covered in satin and silk. Velvet-smooth skin called to him, lulled him into a lover’s trance as she covered the distance between them, heavy lidded eyes locked on his.
Dry-mouthed and jacked on the sight of her, his hands grabbed at his shirt, pulling desperately.
“No,” she growled deep in her throat, batting at his hand. “Don’t move.”
He froze; he shivered and burned from the inside out as her hands rucked his tee shirt up over his head without touching him.
A quick flick of her wrist sent his shirt after her leathers as he toed his boots off and kicked them blindly into opposite corners.
Her voice, deep and low, short-circuited his brain; shot down his spine, curled in his gut as it suddenly got harder for him to breathe.
He tried to calm himself; thought he might explode.
She leaned in, body undulating, breasts almost touching his chest. He fought the urge to surge into her, feel her soft and sliding against his skin.
His eyelids fluttered and he gasped for breath. A shiver rippled through him as electric light arced along raw nerve endings and his body pulsated in an answering rhythm.
Her warm breath ghosted along his cheek as she nuzzled him, scented him, body calling to his as she slid down his length to her knees, slipped off his socks.
His hand moved to cup her skull, fist in her hair. She batted it away.
Cool fingertips grazed his waist, brushed his burning skin as she opened his leathers. Her tongue traced a trail up his abdomen, breath soft and warm on sensitized skin, igniting a conflagration through him that shot up his spine and exploded like an incandescent flare in his brain.
Groaning deep in his throat, he canted his hips, straining, seeking the heat of her touch, her hand, her tongue; her lips on him.
Rising, she flowed up his body; made him wanna crawl out of his skin.
He stopped breathing; tried to follow when she pulled away.
“Don’t.” She shoved him back and watched him drop into the room’s only chair, shirtless, barefoot, and glaringly hard in his leather pants. “Move.”
Fever bright eyes that burned like blue flame tracked her retreat, marked every line and curve of her, locked on ivory hands slipping through sable streams of silken hair, sliding along her jaw line, down the hollow of her throat, over the perfect, pale swell of her breasts.
She hooked an elegant finger in the waistband of her of briefs, pulled them down from just below her narrow waist, that spot his hands loved to wrap.
His palms itched; his fingers felt the smooth tinge of cool satin along the curve of her hips as she slipped her briefs lower.
His eyes glazed and he breathed short and shallow. He wanted to trail his tongue, his lips, along that silken trail, hungry for the taste of her; the feel of her beneath him.
A wicked grin pulled at her lips as she turned and folded herself over, working the briefs down her long, long legs.
He jerked forward, his fingers splayed and flexed, wanting to palm, cup, squeeze that perfect ass; wanting to pull her up and over, tight against him.
She straightened slowly, a quick flick of her ankle sending her briefs flying as she turned. Backing up, her knees hit the mattress.
Smokey eyes locked on his, pinned him place as she dropped to the bed, pivoted to stretch out long and languorous like a well satisfied cat on the mattress. Shaking out her hair, she slanted her eyes back to him; settled against the pillows as she drew her long, lean legs up, let her knees fall to the side.
A shudder ripped through him and he hissed through his teeth as his hand slid down his length, rubbed through the leather as she found the clear, curved plastic.
Her back arched as she reached behind her, flipped a pillow, found a wall setting. A feral smile slid across her lips as she flicked the switch.
He growled deep in his throat as he moved.
He settled back, his erection straining as he slipped his hand into his pants and slid his hand down his cock. Hard, thick, slick at the head, his hips jerked as images of her lips, her mouth, her tongue, her fingers on him played in technicolor behind half-closed eyes.
The hum of the massager floated over the oscillating hum of Moya as she reached the curled nest of black between her legs. Ivory slid through ebony, and then her fingers were in her folds.
He stroked down his cock, threw back his head at the tiny tremors that ran through it. Hips thrusting, balls starting to tighten, he ran a finger around his tip. Dripping in his pants, he could feel the leak and the wet spot, worse than a horny seventeen-year-old.
A fine satin sheen covered her body as she moved to the rhythm pulsing from the wall to the wand to her hand, between her legs, through her body.
His vision narrowed, greyed out at the periphery as he sucked in a harsh breath through a dry mouth, that pulse pounding in his ears, in his dick.
Her free hand slid through her hair; delicate fingers traced down her jaw line, the elegant line of her neck, trailed lazily along the cool, creamy swell of her breasts, tracing patterns, pinching and rolling the pale, pink nipple between thumb and forefinger.
He shivered violently as her tongue sneaked out to lick her lips. His eyes were glued to her, laid out there just for him; his hand was glued to his shaft, fingers twitching, flexing.
He bucked hard against his hand as she slid her palm down the tight plane of her belly, feathered her fingers over the soft silk of her inner thighs.
He was on fire, rigid in pants that were far too tight, shaking as he burned from the inside out with the hot, heavy need to take her, fuck her backward, forward, upside down, inside out until neither one of them could move.
Her body quivered, rippled in liquid motion like cream in coffee across the black fire silk sheet. She threw back her head, panting open mouthed, and he exploded out of the chair, shucking his pants and kicking them blindly away.
Narrowed eyes tracked him as he stalked the bed, crawled into it, came up on his knees between her legs, and slid two long fingers into her. Falling forward, he planted his free hand on the mattress, leaned forward and wrapped his lips around her nipple, clamping down, sucking wetly.
Her eyes rolled back in her head as she gasped for breath, jerking beneath his touch.
He pulled back, blue eyes burning as he worked his way around her body, slid in behind her, wrapped her in his arms and legs, her back pressed against his chest, his cock trapped between them as she guided his hand slowly down to the curved plastic handle.
Strong fingers wrapped his hand, her wrist resting on top of his.
He couldn’t tell the difference between her pulse and the one flowing from the handle in his hand.
The tremors passed through her and into him as she shuddered and pushed back against him. He pulled her tight as she writhed, small thrusts in his lap, palm flat against her as his hand slid along her stomach, the soft satin of her breast, thumb brushing against the raised nipple.
He buried his face in her hair as she threw back her head on his shoulder, nipped at the base of her neck as she planted her feet and pushed against him, coming hard in utter silence.
Her comms chirped and Rygel’s voice piped into the cell. “Crichton, what the frell is going on with these frelling power surges?”
He slapped at it and growled deep in his throat as she sprawled boneless against him. “Not now. Busy.”
He worked his way free, rolled from behind her and over her, his greater mass pinning her. Sliding against sweat-slicked skin, his hands grabbed her wrists, bowed her body taut as he pulled them up above her head; wrapped both in his larger hand.
She rolled her hips and swallowed his groan as his lips crushed hers.
He buried his face in her hair, nipped at the join of her neck and shoulder gently. She twitched beneath him, her breathing settling as he held her close.
He nuzzled at her ear, traced the delicate shell with his tongue and breathed softly. “You bring anything else I don’t know about back from Earth?”
Her tongue peeked out from between wet, swollen lips. “Maybe.”
He suddenly shifted, pulled her arms down, pinned them at her sides.
She bucked hard against him with a grunt, tried to shift and roll, but his hands were steel on her wrists as he slipped lower down her body, forearms pinning her thighs wide as he laid her open slit to clit with a long sweep of his tongue.
“And if you’re good, maybe I’ll let you play with…”
Her words trailed off with a moan.