Putting my money where my mouth is
Dec. 14th, 2004 03:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
itsallovernowI've said a lot of things about Romance writers and published sex in the last two days, so it seems only fitting to post the first part of what I've been working on. This is Season 1 and it is porn. There really is no plot. It's an experiment of sorts, a "Can I make this work without violating canon?" kind of thing.
It's beta free, currently, although![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
crankygrrl and rubberneck have been both encouraging me and calling me on the more glaring of the mistakes. It is also very much NC-17, and I use very few euphamisms:)
Baby, Can I Drive Your Car?
Part I
Off the tricycle, on with the training wheels.
He missed on the last pass, failing to block her punch and she rolled her eyes, hit him in the throat, sending him spluttering to his knees.
"Christ, Aeryn," he coughed, whooping for air, trying to figure out how to breathe around a collapsed trachea.
She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in disgust. "I didn't hit you that hard. Certainly not as hard as I should have."
Still swallowing around the pain, he flipped her the bird. "That translate?" he choked.
"Oh, here," she said impatiently, offering an arm to haul him up, but he swatted her away, got to his feet unsteadily and flipped the towel off the floor at the edge of the mat. He leaned against the wall, struggling to get his breath under control, feeling sweaty and nauseous and fucked over.
"You're not supposed to try to kill me," he said, sounding petulant even to his own ears.
She just shrugged, raising an eyebrow. They'd had this conversation before. According to her, she actually was supposed to try to kill him, and a niggling voice in his head asked why she hadn't done more damage. She'd pulled that punch. She could have shattered his throat, hurt him very badly.
He opened his eyes, seeing her across the way, shirt damp with sweat, material adhering to the curve of her breasts. Her hair was a little wild, inky squiggles of flyaways plastered to her face, her color high.
"Beautiful girl who'd just kicked his ass," he thought and then swallowed with a wince.
She tilted her head, and he knew that gesture. It was her one tell, meant she was preparing to level some serious damage on the unsuspecting, but her lips were parted slightly, eyes bright and he had to ask.
"So," he said, scrubbing at his hair with the towel, knowing it was a mistake as soon as he said it, unable to stop himself. "Why didn't you?"
Her grin was feral, and she moved towards him, all predatory grace and a whole smileful of intent.
His PhD had hung on the wall of his office, gave him a false sense of being the smartest guy in the room. Okay,, so arrogance was easy in a room full of astronauts, government types. Most rocket jockeys didn't care about the theoretical applications of space-time, more interested in the rush of space, the thrill of the undiscoverd.
"PhD musta lied," he thought as she walked, hips rolling in a swagger, "'cause I've got no fucking clue what she's up to."
He tensed his body, preparing for another physical onslaught, another lashing dissection of his thrusts and parries from her sharp gaze and sharper tongue.
"Sharpest frelling elbows in the UT's as well," he muttered, braced and waiting.
She wasn't moving swiftly enough to dive in, to hit him, though. Maybe she just wanted to deliver the final insult without any space between. She stopped mere inches away, and pursed her lips like she'd come to a conclusion.
Then she put her her hand on his dick, squeezing with a truly fantastic balance of pressure and skill. If his Aunt Ruth had taken off her shirt at a family function and started dancing on tables, John wouldn't have been more shocked, so he did what he always did at moments when tension and fear have just been trumped by the absurd. He started to laugh, guffawing like a 13 year old watching a marathon of Stooges.
The laughter poured out of his throat like rain and sand. Her expression grew storm cloud grey, thunderous but her grip stayed steady and suddenly the laughter hitched up on the rush of holy fuck that's good that hit his brain. He tried to stifle the nervous giggle burbling low in his throat, tried to riff on the heat running up his body, punching at the adrenaline, blood pumping in his ears as the fear thought about ebbing.
"Um, Aeryn," he gurgled, "whatcha doing there, ace?" He tried to give her a strangled sort of grin, and the storm melted away on her strong features, mouth a wicked curve, an almost smile.
"Systems check," her mouth twitched and she edged in closer while he tried to make himself one with the wall. Her fingers slid down, slipping between his legs, knuckles brushing his balls and he gulped.
"Um, everything regulation?" Shit. What if it wasn't? He wasn't sure he wanted to encourage this little stint of intelligence gathering, but … he hissed, okay she seemed to know her way around the equipment. That had to be a good sign. Was he looking for a good sign?
"So far." She bared her teeth at him, determined. Okay, that was enough. Sex and violence sure, but getting his ass whomped from here to next Tuesday and then having the whomper snuggle up to his private bits was more than he could take. He put his hand on her chest, fingers splayed against the fine, thin skin and pushed back.
"Look, uh, I think you're great, when you're not trying to maim me, or tell me what a dumb ass I'm being, but, you know maybe dinner, a show, some wine first…" His voice trailed off as he noticed that he hadn't actually taken back his hand. Her skin was tacky with sweat but soft, so soft and he could smell the subtle scent of her hair, the musk of her skin. Alien girl under his hands, alien girl with her hand on his crotch, and damn maybe the rules really were different out here.
He stroked his thumb along her collarbone, teeth rubbing along his bottom lip. "God, I'm just fucked aren't I?" He shivered, her welcome warmth against his fingers, his body hardening against her palm, good touch such a foreign thing these days,
She blinked, squinted in a mix of incomprehension and stubbornness. "Do you not want to frell?"
He tittered again,a shocked maiden aunt hearing her question aloud, and she dropped her hand, took a step back, looking young and mutinous.
"Shit," he tried to stop chuckling.
"Crichton!!!" D'Argo's voice roared out of the com pinned to Aeryn's shirt, interrupting the comedy of errors. " Aeryn!! Where the frell are you?"
"Uh, a little busy here, D'Argo?"
"Well, stop playing with yourself and get down here! Rygel has destroyed one of the cargo containers and it's opened up a leak in the bay."
"Stop playing with yourself?" he mouthed at Aeryn, whose face had gone back to cloudy. "How'd he know?"
She snatched the towel out of his hands and stalked away. "Aeryn," he called as D'Argo's voice walked away with her.
"Crichton," D'Argo bellowed again and Aeryn stopped, glaring at John.
"What the hell do you want me to do about it?" he barked, a question for both of the aliens currently pissed at him. "I want one of you to clean up this mess and stop the leak, while I find and kill that little slug."
John rolled his eyes. "Can't the DRD's do it?"
"The DRD's are attending to leaks elsewhere. Apparently, the baby is experiencing growing pains."
"Dude, needs some valium," John muttered as Aeryn shoved her feet into her boots, swiping at her arms and chest with the towl.
"Fine. Ooof!" The towel hit him in the face and he glared back at her, "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go kick a DRD or something. We'll be there in a minute."
He moved towards Aeryn, reaching to tap the com off.
"Any chance, uh, that we could get back to this later? Maybe talk about it a little." Her lip curled in disgust and she didn't say anything, just clomped out of the room.
"Great," he muttered. "That's fan- frelling - tastic."
***
Dinner was an exercise in cranky. Whatever had come leaking out of the walls was pervasively sticky, bearing a muted tobaccoey scent. It took them the better part of the afternoon to salvage the stores, eventually calling on Zhaan for help getting the food and equipment up high before the ooze ruined their supplies.
Despite the awkward way they'd ended the weird little foray in the bay, he and Aeryn had worked together easily, snarking at the mess, and at D'Argo who stood in the midst of the ooze, hands on his hips like the worst kind of sissy, reluctant to touch the sticky and unidentifiable.
Now, exhausted and filthy they all sat around the table, picking through the left-over food, griping.
"This is all that's left?" Aeryn's voice was rough, ready for some smackdown as she barked at Rygel.
Rygel, clean and smelling as sweet as possible for him, hovered with the remains of the kelop melon, sniffing with contempt. "Filthy body breeders, " he muttered, looking them over. "Can't even come to table looking presentable." He attacked the melon with gusto.
A particularly large food cube ricocheted off his head.
"Bitch," he snarled at Aeryn, who curled slim fingers around her knife, hefting the hilt and pushing it against the table, gaze hard and full of menace.
"Sparky," John said wearily, washing down dried jelkin with a swish of water. "You may wanna take that show on the road. It has been a hell of a day."
Rygel hmphed and sped out, heeding the warning along with Aeryn's caress of the knife hilt. Another food cube hit him on the back of the head, landing with a dry thwip in the doorway.
"He's right," D'Argo growled, "We are covered in this filth.. Argh." He stood up, plates scattering and clanking. "I am going to bathe."
Zhaan stood, equally weary, "I doubt that substance will come off with mere soap and water," she said mildly. "Let me see if I have anything to use as solvent that won't take your skin off as well." D'Argo's cheeks flushed at her care.
"Thank you," he stuttered, gruff and embarrassed.
Zhaan followed him out, leaving John alone with Aeryn. She hadn't set down the knife, and there was a smudge of grime on her cheek. He wanted to reach across, smooth it away, and he followed his instinct, licking his thumb and curling his fingers around her jaw before she could protest, but his thumb stuck to the smudge and the skin of her cheek moved along with his motion. She growled, whacked at his hand, and he flinched back.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
She shook her head impatiently, standing and gathering plates and the remnants of food off the table, taking them to the sink. He watched her work for a moment, then finally heaved himself to his feet and helped her. They worked in silence for a few microts before she finally dropped the plates into the sink, bracing herself and then turned to him, jaw set, determined.
"You laughed," she said, voice accusatory and just a little uncertain.
"What?"
"Earlier. What was funny?"
"Funny? I don't… oh." He felt his cheeks pinken. "Um, that."
She continued to stare at him, eyes opening with annoyance, impatience in the set of her shoulders. He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the blush stain his face, move down his neck.
"You'd uh, just finished beating the crap out of me, then you grabbed my crotch. For all I knew, you were gonna take my balls as a trophy."
Her mouth was a moue of disgust. "Can't you ever just make sense."
"Fine," he said, feeling the pissy burn of anger flare. "You hit me in the frelling throat and then you grabbed my dick. Didn't really know what your intentions were there, Aeryn, and when I thought maybe you weren't going to rip off my testicles, I got a little slap happy. Tends to happen to me out here when things go well. Or, better. When it doesn't hurt."
She blinked, parsing that, features serious.
He took a step closer. "Every frelling thing I do, that gets done to me seems to hurt," he said, gentle with her because the damage she wrought on him tended to at least be under the guise of help. "That felt…good." Good was hardly the word. It felt great, felt weird and wonderful and surprising. "I didn't expect it."
"Humans don't…?"
He flapped his hands, "No, no, humans do… but girls tend to be a little more… subtle."
He took a step closer. "Thought it was just heat… of … the … moment. Before. Lack of oxygen." He brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek.
"It has been close to six monens since I've recreated," she said sourly. "And the likelihood of me finding a suitable Sebacean is unlikely. You are not…unappealing."
It was a dressage course of emotions, lust, anger and now outrage, and honestly, he couldn't help laughing again. "You're horny and you've decided I'm the best of a series of bad options?"
Her mouth narrowed. "Yes."
"So that was the come on? Hey baby, I didn't kill you, wanna fuck?"
Her gaze was flat, unperturbed. "I don't think you find me… unappealing, either. And we appear physically compatible, even if you are an inferior species."
"That's," he spluttered. "ridiculous." he finished weakly. But it wasn't. For her, it wasn't. And human looking or not, she was an alien girl, alien background and intentions and traditions. Maybe alien needs, alien responses, he swallowed hard, caught his breath. Been longer than six months for him.
"This is a big deal for you, isn't it?"
"I'm irreversibly contaminated, Crichton," she spat, haughty and rough. "If I kill you or frell you, at this point, it doesn't much matter."
"Xenophobic space Nazis, kinda hard to get past that," he rubbed his thumb against his bottom lip. "Contamination, fucking's definitely gonna be contamination. And you're willing to risk that to scratch an itch?"
He knew he was pushing, but he wanted an answer.
"It's necessary to relieve tension in order to perform more effectively," she said, turning and leaning a hip against the counter. "Sex is an efficient method of doing so."
"We been on a few planets. Coulda got yourself a dildo." The thought makes him sweat, her long, lean body naked, a phallus self-propelled between her thighs.
She lifted her shoulders, and her eyes narrowed, sultry and sulky and hot. "I'm developing callouses," she said, and he felt the richness of honest laughter burst out him, felt his cheeks flame.
"Bodies are a better," he said, stepping close, drawn in despite himself, read to drift lazily in her orbit.
"Less chance of gettin' carpal tunnel, repetitive motion syndrome."
"I can provide myself with release," she said, matter of fact, "but I can't do… certain things… to myself."
His chest is banded tight, breathing shallow. His cock was harder now that it had been resting in her clever fingers.
"So you, uh, need something with…"
"Hands," she said, low and gravelly, spreading her fingers wide, and pushing hard against his chest, hand splayed in an imitation of his earlier gesture.
"A mouth," she leaned forward, lips so close he could feel the moist heat of her breath. "A tongue." Her skin was soft against his cheek. "Teeth."
He shuddered and her thigh slipped between his. "A cock."
"Frell."
She stepped in close, hips bony against his waist, the thickness of his penis hardening between them. "Is that a yes?"
Mastering the Ten Speed
It was hard to walk with half a hard-on jiggling around in his khakis. His hands kept drifting south of their own accord, wanting to cover the evidence of arousal. Felt like a teenager again, penis a separate entity with a mind of its own. Sense memory full of the feel of her body pressed against his, the warm familiarity of heat and breath, the softness of her breasts. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to walk around the erection, keep it in check. Finally, he reached into his pants, tucking it up under the band of his shorts, praying they didn't run smack dab into one of the others.
Aeryn wasn't helping, swaggering down the hall way, hips swinging with a loose sexiness, and he wondered if he did that. Had done that, knowing he was gonna get laid, had made the sell and was gonna reap the benefits. Did he strut with the time honored surety of those about to be buried in heat, reveling in the slip- slide of genitals and lube?
Christ. He couldn't help it, cupping himself, keeping things contained. Elastic in his shorts was close to shot and he'd been dropping weight, the pants baggy on his frame, didn't need the extra friction. He was already scared of embarrassing himself here in the hall, ending up on her doorstep with a wet spot and a blush.
Her hair bounced, black and curled and heavy, a nice JV schoolgirl swing to it that was fucking with his brain because there certainly wasn't a trace of cheerleader in Aeryn. He had to get things back under control, had to get the big head to talk to the little head, to get his brave new world instincts to meet up with the survival of the fittest that seemed to have escaped him.
Earlier would have been a good time for a little tete a tete with his nether parts regarding their desire to go all James T. on him and play ambassador to the stars. Explore new worlds and all that jazz. Little late now, though. He was committeed. Signed up and received his commission. He still wasn't sure that having sex with a soldier was a good idea. Compelling, sure. The idea was compelling, she was compelling, but the Loop de Loop out on the pier had been equally compelling and that had ended with him puking up cheap beer and hot dogs.
Aeryn stopped at her quarters, palming the lock and the gate slid open. She walked through the door, shedding clothes as she went. Boots toed off, socks shoved down under the tongue, and as her fingers found the clasp of her pants, John cleared his throat and she turned back to look at him, stuck in the doorway, hand on his dick and feet super-glued to the floor.
"Are you staying out there?" Her voice was low, the rough heady hum of smoke and whiskey and seduction. She was amused, the tinge of laughter tilting up the corner of her lush mouth, thumb hooked in the waistband of her loose pants, tugging them down enough to expose the smooth white skin of her belly. But despite all that, he found that he couldn't move forward.
It wasn't that he wanted to back out, back down. Well, not exactly. Sex was sex. Sex was good. Sex with a certified grade-A alien chick was better, right? Might be better, might be mildly terrifying, might be amazing, might be a lot of things. Things that weren't good. Icy slivers of anxiety slid into his veins and the hard on dwindled down, erection hanging low, deflated.
"I.. uh…" he cleared his throat. "Maybe this is a bad idea." He couldn't believe he was saying that. Neither apparently, could she. Undoing the clasp of the pants, she shucked them quickly, then folded them neatly. Her skin was very white, legs long and slim, well muscled, stretching all the way down to floor from those little black shorts. He breathed heavily through his nose. She set the pants down next to her boots and walked out into the hall.
Turns out, Aeryn wasn't less intimidating in her underwear, but she was smaller, standing barefoot and half naked in front of him. She could still look him in the eye, but she had to tilt her head just the tiniest bit and the small vulnerability grabbed at him. Her mouth was soft, eyes determined and she snagged at his hand, deliberate and focused.
He didn't fight her and she brought his hand to her sex, slipping their joined hands between the apex of her thighs. Heat, damp heat, searing through the thin cloth. She made a sound, a quick purrish gasp and his fingers moved of their own volition, stroking, just a little, just enough apparently, a systems check of his own. Her eyes slitted, cattish and pleased, breath hitching slightly. His thumb joined the party, rubbing a little at the top, where her clitoris would be, might be, he thought, if everything lined up the same. He started to sweat
"I think it's a very good idea." She untangled her fingers from his, taking the hem of his shirt and tugging it up until it caught under his armpit. He jerked his hand back and brushed her away, grabbing the shirt behind his back and hauling it over his head until they matched, both half bare in the golden hallway. He tossed the shirt into her room and took a deep breath.
"I..." He narrowed his eyes. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, feeling monumentally stupid but desperately in need of some ground rules.
She raised an eyebrow, expression arch and kind and kissed him.
Cold water. New snow and early spring and it hadn't been just the heat and oxygen deprived pod.
Her lips were cool, sweet and slick against his mouth, her tongue darting to tangle with his as he relaxed into the kiss. He grabbed her head, fingers curling into her hair, kissing her back, breathless with the taste and feel of her. He could feel himself hardening again, and he stroked his hand down her back, daring to slide over her ass, pull her to him, copping a feel and getting a little pressure change at the same time.
Girl could kiss, put his tongue in a sling if she kept doing what she was doing, and maybe they needed to dial it down just a tad. He could feel himself, unreasonably hard from this low-level necking, lingual acrobatics notwithstanding, and he angled his head, mouth sliding against the skin of her jaw, tongue darting against the spot behind her ear.
Her forearm pressed against his chest, fingers on his collarbone, flexing in pleasure like a cat kneeding a lap, thumb against the hollow of his throat. Her hand snaked up towards his neck, seeking better purchase and something pulled, tugged at his chest, needle pricks of pain and he yelped against her mouth. She pulled back, expression fierce and confused and a little dazed and yanked her arm back.
"Ow! Fuck. Ow." Shit, she'd just ripped all of the skin off of his chest. He looked down, hands fumbling over the planes of his torso. Okay, not the skin, just the hair. What the hell?
She turned her forearm over, lip curled in disgust. A line of the sticky fluid covered the long bone, and was now covered in turn by a swatch of his chest hair.
"That is disgusting," she growled."
"You ripped that offa me," he groused back. "It hurt like a sonofabitch."
She shook her head, swiping fastidiously at the line of hair while he rubbed the bald strip on his chest. "Maybe you were right," she growled. "This was a particularly stupid idea."
Oh, no. She'd started this. He was here, he looked like a skinned cat, and he was horny. They were gonna do this.
She picked the hair off of her arm. "Sebaceans are not … furry."
He grimaced at her. "Well be glad I've got a little protective covering, or else you'd a ripped my skin off and we'd be in the infirmary, hunting for some band aids." He paused, rubbing at the raw spot on his chest. "So Sebacean men are… hairless."
She tsked, tongue clucking as she continued to pick at her arm, dropping sticky bits onto the floor. "Except for around their genitals."
He bit his lip, looking her up and down and leaned towards her. "So what about the women?"
"Same," she muttered, and he didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. The thought of her pussy, hairless and pale, possibly pink rimmed by nature and not by hot wax was undeniably appealing, fingers slipping soft against skin, slipping between, mouth against the same sleek flesh that covered her neck, but wetter, more pungent, more…
She licked her lips, staring at the front of his pants and stopped what she was doing, sliding her fingers into the black shorts and pulling them down until he could see the dark gloss of hair covering her sex, the line of it matted from her underwear and the very top of her cunt lips peeking at him. He covered his mouth with his hand, stifling himself, as she let the elastic snap the underwear back into place.
"Oh, god," he groaned against his fingers, lust beating in his ears, drowning out her evil chortle. He was 10 years old again, playing doctor in the weeds behind the school, but this time, he knew what to do with what he found and he was strangely charmed by all of this, her honesty and her aggression, her peepshow tendencies.
"We're doin' this," he said, low and guttural, grabbing her upper arm and frog marching her into the room. Time to put trepidation behind him and put his money where his mouth was, or, universe willing, his mouth on the wet heat of her cunt. He thought he might be able to even get a seal of approval for that plan.
He palmed the door closed, as she wriggled out of his grip, tugging at the privacy curtain and then they both stopped, staring at each other, not quite sure what to do next. She rubbed absently at her arm, and he nodded. "Yeah, right then."
He stepped forward, snagging his fingers on the edge of her shorts and yanked them down. They fell to the ground, leaving her exposed. White t-shirt and pale belly, triangle of black hair and he put his hand on her hip, reveling in the texture of her skin, rubbing the bony ridge of her hip with his thumb. She looked under her lashes, sloe-eyed and deliberate.
"Gotta make sure that everything checks out right," he murmured, feeling the comfortable skin of seduction slip into place.
"What are you waiting for then?" She was vibrating with impatience, and he wanted to tease her a little.
"Working up my courage," he grinned, "What if you got teeth in there, bits I'm not familiar with."
"Standard issue," she said evilly, "You'll just have to check and see."
He slid his hand back to where it had rested in the hallway, nothing between his skin and her heat, the hair tickling slightly, curls wet against his palm.
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Sun," he drawled in a throaty whisper, caught somewhere between the need to match her forthrighness and the lush sensation of her cunt in his hand. Her neck arched and she breathed through her nose. He twitched his fingers and she reached for arm, nails digging into his bicep as he slipped the pad of his finger along the lips, pressing up.
"Harder," she hissed, nails sharp, making him wince at the pain. He thrust, two fingers inside her, and moaned again, hot and tight, her body contracting against him with unexpected force. If she could do that to his fingers, his cock was in for a hell of a ride. He slid out, then in again, heel of his hand butting up against her sex and she shuddered, eyes widening.
He opened his mouth, a little shocked. "Did you just…" She bit her lip, bore down against his hand, grabbing his wrist to keep him in place and he smiled, feeling absurdly proud, and not a little jealous at her release. He bent his neck, lips pressing against the line of her shoulder and came away sticky. Another thin line of the ooze stretched across her left shoulder and he jerked his hand away. She growled at him, slapping him hard on the bicep and he slid out of her with a snikking slurp of sound. He shoved at her chest, pushing her back a little.
"Shower," he said, pointing, panting, fingers coated in her joice, trying to find control in the ether. "I don't want to be bald before this is done."
"Hmph," Aeryn snorted, then cocked her head. "All right," she conceded. "You're filthy." She grabbed the bottom of her shirt, pulling it off over her head, quickly discarding the bra, and walked to the shower, hips swaying, ass a taunting curve. He shook his head again. "I'm so fucked," he whispered, and followed, pants and underwear falling to the ground in his wake.
It seemed fitting in retrospect, that the first step towards finally fucking Aeryn Sun would start with her trying to freeze his balls off. Didn't think that one through Mr. Rocket Science, Mr. I have a PhD in Science, did you?
Into the shower and out just as quickly as the water hit him like pricks of ice, burning coldly and his poor dick so confused by the rise and fall of it's current empire that he'd be lucky if he knew where to put it should the occasion arise.
"Freezing, too cold," he bellowed at her, feeling for the nob. "Too frelling cold. Oh, god, sorry boys, so so very sorry."
Once again he had his cock in hand, trying to convince his genitalia that he didn't mean them any harm. Water sluiced over Aeryn's body, sliding over the lovely weight of her breasts, pale nipples hard with, skin smooth, marred by tiny, random scars. He stood at the edge of the shower, shivering and staring. She looked so human, so much like a girl in a shower, hair wet, lashes in starry points against her cheek. Her skin was fine and rich, thin in places and he could seen her veins, bluish and narrow under her skin in the crook of her arms, along the side of her breasts.
"Crichton, you're acting like an infant," she barked, grabbing for the soap and rubbing it between her palms. "It's not that cold." She scrubbed her palms over her heavy hair, working it up into a lather and then let the water rinse her clean. She wiped the water away from her face and stared at him expectantly. "Besides," she added, prim and fetching, long fingers stroking over the curve of her breast, sauntering down her belly. "Take your own turn. This is my shower."
"You want to get any use out this," he waggled his dick at her like a corndog salesman showcasing his wares, "that water has to be warmer. The way things have been going, we'll get 5, maybe 10 minutes of water from Pilot before Moya's baby distracts him, so I'd like to de-gunk before we run dry."
She pursed her lips, but didn't change the temperature and he shook his dick once more, gesturing and then let go of himself, defeated and deflated, stepping out of the stall completely, and crossing his arms over his chest glaring at her.
"Maybe it's a sign," he said, shoulders slumped. "We keep stalling out, run of bad luck, bad judgment. Let's just call it a draw, stick to our respective rooms and our respective whacking off. Bet I can rig something up for your Hitachi 3000 that makes it vibrate and well," he leered at her body, feeling a little mean, a lot unsatisfied "now I've got some prime material of my own. You stay uncontaminated, and I stay undamaged."
There was a flash of something in her eyes that read like hurt - damaged pride perhaps, maybe a little embarrassment.
"Fine," she said, turning off the spray. She squeezed the water out of her hair. "You can go then," she said, distant and wooden.
"Aeryn," he started, and then stopped. He handed her a towel, and went back into her room to gather his clothes.
Her body was wrapped in a gold towel, the hair making snakes of water down her arms and down the sheet. The line of ooze still clung to her skin, and she rubbed it with her thumb.
"Ask Zhaan for the solvent," she said, voice flat. "But have her dilute it. Luxan skin is much thicker."
He didn't know what to say or do, how to take back the snark and the pouting and the feeling of goddammit can't something in this universe go right. He put on his clothes while she watched, picking up his boots and leaving, no other words exchanged between them. He heard the whoosh of the door behind him as it locked into place. He stood in the middle of the hallway, furious and frustrated and then grabbed one of his boots, throwing it down the hallway as hard as he could. The gesture didn't make him feel better and he sighed, weary and went off to gather his footwear back up.
It's beta free, currently, although
crankygrrl and rubberneck have been both encouraging me and calling me on the more glaring of the mistakes. It is also very much NC-17, and I use very few euphamisms:)Baby, Can I Drive Your Car?
Part I
Off the tricycle, on with the training wheels.
He missed on the last pass, failing to block her punch and she rolled her eyes, hit him in the throat, sending him spluttering to his knees.
"Christ, Aeryn," he coughed, whooping for air, trying to figure out how to breathe around a collapsed trachea.
She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in disgust. "I didn't hit you that hard. Certainly not as hard as I should have."
Still swallowing around the pain, he flipped her the bird. "That translate?" he choked.
"Oh, here," she said impatiently, offering an arm to haul him up, but he swatted her away, got to his feet unsteadily and flipped the towel off the floor at the edge of the mat. He leaned against the wall, struggling to get his breath under control, feeling sweaty and nauseous and fucked over.
"You're not supposed to try to kill me," he said, sounding petulant even to his own ears.
She just shrugged, raising an eyebrow. They'd had this conversation before. According to her, she actually was supposed to try to kill him, and a niggling voice in his head asked why she hadn't done more damage. She'd pulled that punch. She could have shattered his throat, hurt him very badly.
He opened his eyes, seeing her across the way, shirt damp with sweat, material adhering to the curve of her breasts. Her hair was a little wild, inky squiggles of flyaways plastered to her face, her color high.
"Beautiful girl who'd just kicked his ass," he thought and then swallowed with a wince.
She tilted her head, and he knew that gesture. It was her one tell, meant she was preparing to level some serious damage on the unsuspecting, but her lips were parted slightly, eyes bright and he had to ask.
"So," he said, scrubbing at his hair with the towel, knowing it was a mistake as soon as he said it, unable to stop himself. "Why didn't you?"
Her grin was feral, and she moved towards him, all predatory grace and a whole smileful of intent.
His PhD had hung on the wall of his office, gave him a false sense of being the smartest guy in the room. Okay,, so arrogance was easy in a room full of astronauts, government types. Most rocket jockeys didn't care about the theoretical applications of space-time, more interested in the rush of space, the thrill of the undiscoverd.
"PhD musta lied," he thought as she walked, hips rolling in a swagger, "'cause I've got no fucking clue what she's up to."
He tensed his body, preparing for another physical onslaught, another lashing dissection of his thrusts and parries from her sharp gaze and sharper tongue.
"Sharpest frelling elbows in the UT's as well," he muttered, braced and waiting.
She wasn't moving swiftly enough to dive in, to hit him, though. Maybe she just wanted to deliver the final insult without any space between. She stopped mere inches away, and pursed her lips like she'd come to a conclusion.
Then she put her her hand on his dick, squeezing with a truly fantastic balance of pressure and skill. If his Aunt Ruth had taken off her shirt at a family function and started dancing on tables, John wouldn't have been more shocked, so he did what he always did at moments when tension and fear have just been trumped by the absurd. He started to laugh, guffawing like a 13 year old watching a marathon of Stooges.
The laughter poured out of his throat like rain and sand. Her expression grew storm cloud grey, thunderous but her grip stayed steady and suddenly the laughter hitched up on the rush of holy fuck that's good that hit his brain. He tried to stifle the nervous giggle burbling low in his throat, tried to riff on the heat running up his body, punching at the adrenaline, blood pumping in his ears as the fear thought about ebbing.
"Um, Aeryn," he gurgled, "whatcha doing there, ace?" He tried to give her a strangled sort of grin, and the storm melted away on her strong features, mouth a wicked curve, an almost smile.
"Systems check," her mouth twitched and she edged in closer while he tried to make himself one with the wall. Her fingers slid down, slipping between his legs, knuckles brushing his balls and he gulped.
"Um, everything regulation?" Shit. What if it wasn't? He wasn't sure he wanted to encourage this little stint of intelligence gathering, but … he hissed, okay she seemed to know her way around the equipment. That had to be a good sign. Was he looking for a good sign?
"So far." She bared her teeth at him, determined. Okay, that was enough. Sex and violence sure, but getting his ass whomped from here to next Tuesday and then having the whomper snuggle up to his private bits was more than he could take. He put his hand on her chest, fingers splayed against the fine, thin skin and pushed back.
"Look, uh, I think you're great, when you're not trying to maim me, or tell me what a dumb ass I'm being, but, you know maybe dinner, a show, some wine first…" His voice trailed off as he noticed that he hadn't actually taken back his hand. Her skin was tacky with sweat but soft, so soft and he could smell the subtle scent of her hair, the musk of her skin. Alien girl under his hands, alien girl with her hand on his crotch, and damn maybe the rules really were different out here.
He stroked his thumb along her collarbone, teeth rubbing along his bottom lip. "God, I'm just fucked aren't I?" He shivered, her welcome warmth against his fingers, his body hardening against her palm, good touch such a foreign thing these days,
She blinked, squinted in a mix of incomprehension and stubbornness. "Do you not want to frell?"
He tittered again,a shocked maiden aunt hearing her question aloud, and she dropped her hand, took a step back, looking young and mutinous.
"Shit," he tried to stop chuckling.
"Crichton!!!" D'Argo's voice roared out of the com pinned to Aeryn's shirt, interrupting the comedy of errors. " Aeryn!! Where the frell are you?"
"Uh, a little busy here, D'Argo?"
"Well, stop playing with yourself and get down here! Rygel has destroyed one of the cargo containers and it's opened up a leak in the bay."
"Stop playing with yourself?" he mouthed at Aeryn, whose face had gone back to cloudy. "How'd he know?"
She snatched the towel out of his hands and stalked away. "Aeryn," he called as D'Argo's voice walked away with her.
"Crichton," D'Argo bellowed again and Aeryn stopped, glaring at John.
"What the hell do you want me to do about it?" he barked, a question for both of the aliens currently pissed at him. "I want one of you to clean up this mess and stop the leak, while I find and kill that little slug."
John rolled his eyes. "Can't the DRD's do it?"
"The DRD's are attending to leaks elsewhere. Apparently, the baby is experiencing growing pains."
"Dude, needs some valium," John muttered as Aeryn shoved her feet into her boots, swiping at her arms and chest with the towl.
"Fine. Ooof!" The towel hit him in the face and he glared back at her, "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go kick a DRD or something. We'll be there in a minute."
He moved towards Aeryn, reaching to tap the com off.
"Any chance, uh, that we could get back to this later? Maybe talk about it a little." Her lip curled in disgust and she didn't say anything, just clomped out of the room.
"Great," he muttered. "That's fan- frelling - tastic."
***
Dinner was an exercise in cranky. Whatever had come leaking out of the walls was pervasively sticky, bearing a muted tobaccoey scent. It took them the better part of the afternoon to salvage the stores, eventually calling on Zhaan for help getting the food and equipment up high before the ooze ruined their supplies.
Despite the awkward way they'd ended the weird little foray in the bay, he and Aeryn had worked together easily, snarking at the mess, and at D'Argo who stood in the midst of the ooze, hands on his hips like the worst kind of sissy, reluctant to touch the sticky and unidentifiable.
Now, exhausted and filthy they all sat around the table, picking through the left-over food, griping.
"This is all that's left?" Aeryn's voice was rough, ready for some smackdown as she barked at Rygel.
Rygel, clean and smelling as sweet as possible for him, hovered with the remains of the kelop melon, sniffing with contempt. "Filthy body breeders, " he muttered, looking them over. "Can't even come to table looking presentable." He attacked the melon with gusto.
A particularly large food cube ricocheted off his head.
"Bitch," he snarled at Aeryn, who curled slim fingers around her knife, hefting the hilt and pushing it against the table, gaze hard and full of menace.
"Sparky," John said wearily, washing down dried jelkin with a swish of water. "You may wanna take that show on the road. It has been a hell of a day."
Rygel hmphed and sped out, heeding the warning along with Aeryn's caress of the knife hilt. Another food cube hit him on the back of the head, landing with a dry thwip in the doorway.
"He's right," D'Argo growled, "We are covered in this filth.. Argh." He stood up, plates scattering and clanking. "I am going to bathe."
Zhaan stood, equally weary, "I doubt that substance will come off with mere soap and water," she said mildly. "Let me see if I have anything to use as solvent that won't take your skin off as well." D'Argo's cheeks flushed at her care.
"Thank you," he stuttered, gruff and embarrassed.
Zhaan followed him out, leaving John alone with Aeryn. She hadn't set down the knife, and there was a smudge of grime on her cheek. He wanted to reach across, smooth it away, and he followed his instinct, licking his thumb and curling his fingers around her jaw before she could protest, but his thumb stuck to the smudge and the skin of her cheek moved along with his motion. She growled, whacked at his hand, and he flinched back.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
She shook her head impatiently, standing and gathering plates and the remnants of food off the table, taking them to the sink. He watched her work for a moment, then finally heaved himself to his feet and helped her. They worked in silence for a few microts before she finally dropped the plates into the sink, bracing herself and then turned to him, jaw set, determined.
"You laughed," she said, voice accusatory and just a little uncertain.
"What?"
"Earlier. What was funny?"
"Funny? I don't… oh." He felt his cheeks pinken. "Um, that."
She continued to stare at him, eyes opening with annoyance, impatience in the set of her shoulders. He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the blush stain his face, move down his neck.
"You'd uh, just finished beating the crap out of me, then you grabbed my crotch. For all I knew, you were gonna take my balls as a trophy."
Her mouth was a moue of disgust. "Can't you ever just make sense."
"Fine," he said, feeling the pissy burn of anger flare. "You hit me in the frelling throat and then you grabbed my dick. Didn't really know what your intentions were there, Aeryn, and when I thought maybe you weren't going to rip off my testicles, I got a little slap happy. Tends to happen to me out here when things go well. Or, better. When it doesn't hurt."
She blinked, parsing that, features serious.
He took a step closer. "Every frelling thing I do, that gets done to me seems to hurt," he said, gentle with her because the damage she wrought on him tended to at least be under the guise of help. "That felt…good." Good was hardly the word. It felt great, felt weird and wonderful and surprising. "I didn't expect it."
"Humans don't…?"
He flapped his hands, "No, no, humans do… but girls tend to be a little more… subtle."
He took a step closer. "Thought it was just heat… of … the … moment. Before. Lack of oxygen." He brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek.
"It has been close to six monens since I've recreated," she said sourly. "And the likelihood of me finding a suitable Sebacean is unlikely. You are not…unappealing."
It was a dressage course of emotions, lust, anger and now outrage, and honestly, he couldn't help laughing again. "You're horny and you've decided I'm the best of a series of bad options?"
Her mouth narrowed. "Yes."
"So that was the come on? Hey baby, I didn't kill you, wanna fuck?"
Her gaze was flat, unperturbed. "I don't think you find me… unappealing, either. And we appear physically compatible, even if you are an inferior species."
"That's," he spluttered. "ridiculous." he finished weakly. But it wasn't. For her, it wasn't. And human looking or not, she was an alien girl, alien background and intentions and traditions. Maybe alien needs, alien responses, he swallowed hard, caught his breath. Been longer than six months for him.
"This is a big deal for you, isn't it?"
"I'm irreversibly contaminated, Crichton," she spat, haughty and rough. "If I kill you or frell you, at this point, it doesn't much matter."
"Xenophobic space Nazis, kinda hard to get past that," he rubbed his thumb against his bottom lip. "Contamination, fucking's definitely gonna be contamination. And you're willing to risk that to scratch an itch?"
He knew he was pushing, but he wanted an answer.
"It's necessary to relieve tension in order to perform more effectively," she said, turning and leaning a hip against the counter. "Sex is an efficient method of doing so."
"We been on a few planets. Coulda got yourself a dildo." The thought makes him sweat, her long, lean body naked, a phallus self-propelled between her thighs.
She lifted her shoulders, and her eyes narrowed, sultry and sulky and hot. "I'm developing callouses," she said, and he felt the richness of honest laughter burst out him, felt his cheeks flame.
"Bodies are a better," he said, stepping close, drawn in despite himself, read to drift lazily in her orbit.
"Less chance of gettin' carpal tunnel, repetitive motion syndrome."
"I can provide myself with release," she said, matter of fact, "but I can't do… certain things… to myself."
His chest is banded tight, breathing shallow. His cock was harder now that it had been resting in her clever fingers.
"So you, uh, need something with…"
"Hands," she said, low and gravelly, spreading her fingers wide, and pushing hard against his chest, hand splayed in an imitation of his earlier gesture.
"A mouth," she leaned forward, lips so close he could feel the moist heat of her breath. "A tongue." Her skin was soft against his cheek. "Teeth."
He shuddered and her thigh slipped between his. "A cock."
"Frell."
She stepped in close, hips bony against his waist, the thickness of his penis hardening between them. "Is that a yes?"
Mastering the Ten Speed
It was hard to walk with half a hard-on jiggling around in his khakis. His hands kept drifting south of their own accord, wanting to cover the evidence of arousal. Felt like a teenager again, penis a separate entity with a mind of its own. Sense memory full of the feel of her body pressed against his, the warm familiarity of heat and breath, the softness of her breasts. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to walk around the erection, keep it in check. Finally, he reached into his pants, tucking it up under the band of his shorts, praying they didn't run smack dab into one of the others.
Aeryn wasn't helping, swaggering down the hall way, hips swinging with a loose sexiness, and he wondered if he did that. Had done that, knowing he was gonna get laid, had made the sell and was gonna reap the benefits. Did he strut with the time honored surety of those about to be buried in heat, reveling in the slip- slide of genitals and lube?
Christ. He couldn't help it, cupping himself, keeping things contained. Elastic in his shorts was close to shot and he'd been dropping weight, the pants baggy on his frame, didn't need the extra friction. He was already scared of embarrassing himself here in the hall, ending up on her doorstep with a wet spot and a blush.
Her hair bounced, black and curled and heavy, a nice JV schoolgirl swing to it that was fucking with his brain because there certainly wasn't a trace of cheerleader in Aeryn. He had to get things back under control, had to get the big head to talk to the little head, to get his brave new world instincts to meet up with the survival of the fittest that seemed to have escaped him.
Earlier would have been a good time for a little tete a tete with his nether parts regarding their desire to go all James T. on him and play ambassador to the stars. Explore new worlds and all that jazz. Little late now, though. He was committeed. Signed up and received his commission. He still wasn't sure that having sex with a soldier was a good idea. Compelling, sure. The idea was compelling, she was compelling, but the Loop de Loop out on the pier had been equally compelling and that had ended with him puking up cheap beer and hot dogs.
Aeryn stopped at her quarters, palming the lock and the gate slid open. She walked through the door, shedding clothes as she went. Boots toed off, socks shoved down under the tongue, and as her fingers found the clasp of her pants, John cleared his throat and she turned back to look at him, stuck in the doorway, hand on his dick and feet super-glued to the floor.
"Are you staying out there?" Her voice was low, the rough heady hum of smoke and whiskey and seduction. She was amused, the tinge of laughter tilting up the corner of her lush mouth, thumb hooked in the waistband of her loose pants, tugging them down enough to expose the smooth white skin of her belly. But despite all that, he found that he couldn't move forward.
It wasn't that he wanted to back out, back down. Well, not exactly. Sex was sex. Sex was good. Sex with a certified grade-A alien chick was better, right? Might be better, might be mildly terrifying, might be amazing, might be a lot of things. Things that weren't good. Icy slivers of anxiety slid into his veins and the hard on dwindled down, erection hanging low, deflated.
"I.. uh…" he cleared his throat. "Maybe this is a bad idea." He couldn't believe he was saying that. Neither apparently, could she. Undoing the clasp of the pants, she shucked them quickly, then folded them neatly. Her skin was very white, legs long and slim, well muscled, stretching all the way down to floor from those little black shorts. He breathed heavily through his nose. She set the pants down next to her boots and walked out into the hall.
Turns out, Aeryn wasn't less intimidating in her underwear, but she was smaller, standing barefoot and half naked in front of him. She could still look him in the eye, but she had to tilt her head just the tiniest bit and the small vulnerability grabbed at him. Her mouth was soft, eyes determined and she snagged at his hand, deliberate and focused.
He didn't fight her and she brought his hand to her sex, slipping their joined hands between the apex of her thighs. Heat, damp heat, searing through the thin cloth. She made a sound, a quick purrish gasp and his fingers moved of their own volition, stroking, just a little, just enough apparently, a systems check of his own. Her eyes slitted, cattish and pleased, breath hitching slightly. His thumb joined the party, rubbing a little at the top, where her clitoris would be, might be, he thought, if everything lined up the same. He started to sweat
"I think it's a very good idea." She untangled her fingers from his, taking the hem of his shirt and tugging it up until it caught under his armpit. He jerked his hand back and brushed her away, grabbing the shirt behind his back and hauling it over his head until they matched, both half bare in the golden hallway. He tossed the shirt into her room and took a deep breath.
"I..." He narrowed his eyes. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, feeling monumentally stupid but desperately in need of some ground rules.
She raised an eyebrow, expression arch and kind and kissed him.
Cold water. New snow and early spring and it hadn't been just the heat and oxygen deprived pod.
Her lips were cool, sweet and slick against his mouth, her tongue darting to tangle with his as he relaxed into the kiss. He grabbed her head, fingers curling into her hair, kissing her back, breathless with the taste and feel of her. He could feel himself hardening again, and he stroked his hand down her back, daring to slide over her ass, pull her to him, copping a feel and getting a little pressure change at the same time.
Girl could kiss, put his tongue in a sling if she kept doing what she was doing, and maybe they needed to dial it down just a tad. He could feel himself, unreasonably hard from this low-level necking, lingual acrobatics notwithstanding, and he angled his head, mouth sliding against the skin of her jaw, tongue darting against the spot behind her ear.
Her forearm pressed against his chest, fingers on his collarbone, flexing in pleasure like a cat kneeding a lap, thumb against the hollow of his throat. Her hand snaked up towards his neck, seeking better purchase and something pulled, tugged at his chest, needle pricks of pain and he yelped against her mouth. She pulled back, expression fierce and confused and a little dazed and yanked her arm back.
"Ow! Fuck. Ow." Shit, she'd just ripped all of the skin off of his chest. He looked down, hands fumbling over the planes of his torso. Okay, not the skin, just the hair. What the hell?
She turned her forearm over, lip curled in disgust. A line of the sticky fluid covered the long bone, and was now covered in turn by a swatch of his chest hair.
"That is disgusting," she growled."
"You ripped that offa me," he groused back. "It hurt like a sonofabitch."
She shook her head, swiping fastidiously at the line of hair while he rubbed the bald strip on his chest. "Maybe you were right," she growled. "This was a particularly stupid idea."
Oh, no. She'd started this. He was here, he looked like a skinned cat, and he was horny. They were gonna do this.
She picked the hair off of her arm. "Sebaceans are not … furry."
He grimaced at her. "Well be glad I've got a little protective covering, or else you'd a ripped my skin off and we'd be in the infirmary, hunting for some band aids." He paused, rubbing at the raw spot on his chest. "So Sebacean men are… hairless."
She tsked, tongue clucking as she continued to pick at her arm, dropping sticky bits onto the floor. "Except for around their genitals."
He bit his lip, looking her up and down and leaned towards her. "So what about the women?"
"Same," she muttered, and he didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. The thought of her pussy, hairless and pale, possibly pink rimmed by nature and not by hot wax was undeniably appealing, fingers slipping soft against skin, slipping between, mouth against the same sleek flesh that covered her neck, but wetter, more pungent, more…
She licked her lips, staring at the front of his pants and stopped what she was doing, sliding her fingers into the black shorts and pulling them down until he could see the dark gloss of hair covering her sex, the line of it matted from her underwear and the very top of her cunt lips peeking at him. He covered his mouth with his hand, stifling himself, as she let the elastic snap the underwear back into place.
"Oh, god," he groaned against his fingers, lust beating in his ears, drowning out her evil chortle. He was 10 years old again, playing doctor in the weeds behind the school, but this time, he knew what to do with what he found and he was strangely charmed by all of this, her honesty and her aggression, her peepshow tendencies.
"We're doin' this," he said, low and guttural, grabbing her upper arm and frog marching her into the room. Time to put trepidation behind him and put his money where his mouth was, or, universe willing, his mouth on the wet heat of her cunt. He thought he might be able to even get a seal of approval for that plan.
He palmed the door closed, as she wriggled out of his grip, tugging at the privacy curtain and then they both stopped, staring at each other, not quite sure what to do next. She rubbed absently at her arm, and he nodded. "Yeah, right then."
He stepped forward, snagging his fingers on the edge of her shorts and yanked them down. They fell to the ground, leaving her exposed. White t-shirt and pale belly, triangle of black hair and he put his hand on her hip, reveling in the texture of her skin, rubbing the bony ridge of her hip with his thumb. She looked under her lashes, sloe-eyed and deliberate.
"Gotta make sure that everything checks out right," he murmured, feeling the comfortable skin of seduction slip into place.
"What are you waiting for then?" She was vibrating with impatience, and he wanted to tease her a little.
"Working up my courage," he grinned, "What if you got teeth in there, bits I'm not familiar with."
"Standard issue," she said evilly, "You'll just have to check and see."
He slid his hand back to where it had rested in the hallway, nothing between his skin and her heat, the hair tickling slightly, curls wet against his palm.
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Sun," he drawled in a throaty whisper, caught somewhere between the need to match her forthrighness and the lush sensation of her cunt in his hand. Her neck arched and she breathed through her nose. He twitched his fingers and she reached for arm, nails digging into his bicep as he slipped the pad of his finger along the lips, pressing up.
"Harder," she hissed, nails sharp, making him wince at the pain. He thrust, two fingers inside her, and moaned again, hot and tight, her body contracting against him with unexpected force. If she could do that to his fingers, his cock was in for a hell of a ride. He slid out, then in again, heel of his hand butting up against her sex and she shuddered, eyes widening.
He opened his mouth, a little shocked. "Did you just…" She bit her lip, bore down against his hand, grabbing his wrist to keep him in place and he smiled, feeling absurdly proud, and not a little jealous at her release. He bent his neck, lips pressing against the line of her shoulder and came away sticky. Another thin line of the ooze stretched across her left shoulder and he jerked his hand away. She growled at him, slapping him hard on the bicep and he slid out of her with a snikking slurp of sound. He shoved at her chest, pushing her back a little.
"Shower," he said, pointing, panting, fingers coated in her joice, trying to find control in the ether. "I don't want to be bald before this is done."
"Hmph," Aeryn snorted, then cocked her head. "All right," she conceded. "You're filthy." She grabbed the bottom of her shirt, pulling it off over her head, quickly discarding the bra, and walked to the shower, hips swaying, ass a taunting curve. He shook his head again. "I'm so fucked," he whispered, and followed, pants and underwear falling to the ground in his wake.
It seemed fitting in retrospect, that the first step towards finally fucking Aeryn Sun would start with her trying to freeze his balls off. Didn't think that one through Mr. Rocket Science, Mr. I have a PhD in Science, did you?
Into the shower and out just as quickly as the water hit him like pricks of ice, burning coldly and his poor dick so confused by the rise and fall of it's current empire that he'd be lucky if he knew where to put it should the occasion arise.
"Freezing, too cold," he bellowed at her, feeling for the nob. "Too frelling cold. Oh, god, sorry boys, so so very sorry."
Once again he had his cock in hand, trying to convince his genitalia that he didn't mean them any harm. Water sluiced over Aeryn's body, sliding over the lovely weight of her breasts, pale nipples hard with, skin smooth, marred by tiny, random scars. He stood at the edge of the shower, shivering and staring. She looked so human, so much like a girl in a shower, hair wet, lashes in starry points against her cheek. Her skin was fine and rich, thin in places and he could seen her veins, bluish and narrow under her skin in the crook of her arms, along the side of her breasts.
"Crichton, you're acting like an infant," she barked, grabbing for the soap and rubbing it between her palms. "It's not that cold." She scrubbed her palms over her heavy hair, working it up into a lather and then let the water rinse her clean. She wiped the water away from her face and stared at him expectantly. "Besides," she added, prim and fetching, long fingers stroking over the curve of her breast, sauntering down her belly. "Take your own turn. This is my shower."
"You want to get any use out this," he waggled his dick at her like a corndog salesman showcasing his wares, "that water has to be warmer. The way things have been going, we'll get 5, maybe 10 minutes of water from Pilot before Moya's baby distracts him, so I'd like to de-gunk before we run dry."
She pursed her lips, but didn't change the temperature and he shook his dick once more, gesturing and then let go of himself, defeated and deflated, stepping out of the stall completely, and crossing his arms over his chest glaring at her.
"Maybe it's a sign," he said, shoulders slumped. "We keep stalling out, run of bad luck, bad judgment. Let's just call it a draw, stick to our respective rooms and our respective whacking off. Bet I can rig something up for your Hitachi 3000 that makes it vibrate and well," he leered at her body, feeling a little mean, a lot unsatisfied "now I've got some prime material of my own. You stay uncontaminated, and I stay undamaged."
There was a flash of something in her eyes that read like hurt - damaged pride perhaps, maybe a little embarrassment.
"Fine," she said, turning off the spray. She squeezed the water out of her hair. "You can go then," she said, distant and wooden.
"Aeryn," he started, and then stopped. He handed her a towel, and went back into her room to gather his clothes.
Her body was wrapped in a gold towel, the hair making snakes of water down her arms and down the sheet. The line of ooze still clung to her skin, and she rubbed it with her thumb.
"Ask Zhaan for the solvent," she said, voice flat. "But have her dilute it. Luxan skin is much thicker."
He didn't know what to say or do, how to take back the snark and the pouting and the feeling of goddammit can't something in this universe go right. He put on his clothes while she watched, picking up his boots and leaving, no other words exchanged between them. He heard the whoosh of the door behind him as it locked into place. He stood in the middle of the hallway, furious and frustrated and then grabbed one of his boots, throwing it down the hallway as hard as he could. The gesture didn't make him feel better and he sighed, weary and went off to gather his footwear back up.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-12-15 12:27 am (UTC)L o L,
shivering
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Date: 2004-12-15 12:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-15 12:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-15 12:48 am (UTC)and no throbbing manhood in sight.
and thea dear, you hit my wish list. John and Aeryn and smut for good measure.
Definite Season 1 vibe and definite Farscape. Nothing's ever easy.
There's more to look forward to?
no subject
Date: 2004-12-15 12:54 am (UTC)Glad you're enjoying it.
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Date: 2004-12-15 12:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-15 01:22 am (UTC)ps. i have this image of the sentence you wrote on the flyleaf of a book. because it's a very good description. ;)
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Date: 2004-12-15 01:43 am (UTC)I love Aeryn and her boldness. Grab a cock and think it's just a normal thing to do. Welcome back, Thea's Aeryn (even though she wasn't gone, I missed her anyway!)
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Date: 2004-12-15 07:00 am (UTC)It's a really clever bit. I like it a lot. :)
L o L,
going off to be quiet now
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Date: 2004-12-15 06:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-15 06:32 pm (UTC)Yeah! My work here is done:)
And yeah, Aeryn is perfectly capable of that level of aggression. She has the sense of entitlement, and the sense of humor (at times) to go along with doing something like that. She also knows how to play him, just a little, and when its better to act than to ask. Still, his reaction is always a surprise and I think she gets off on that a little, even when it ends up backfiring on her.
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Date: 2004-12-16 02:12 am (UTC)Lots of lovely moments and one liners in this. And ending up by throwing his boots like a two year old..sighs.....:)
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Date: 2004-12-16 05:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-17 07:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-17 05:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-09 01:19 am (UTC)Damn good thing I decided it was probably wise to wait till I was NOT at work to read this. Because explaining the loud guffaws that this sentence elicited might have been a wee difficult....
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 01:54 am (UTC)