Baby, Can I Drive Your Car?
Dec. 17th, 2004 12:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
itsallovernowPart IIIb (This will be fleshed out. For now, it's gratuitous for sexual content and almost frelling).
***
She waited to see if he would make the first foray, and he didn't disappoint. She'd taught him well, and he was too impatient to wait for her thrust. He always had to hit first, couldn't stand the suspense, unable to wait her out. He'd learned to counter quickly though, to not be afraid of his own aggression. Use it to his advantage. Someday, he might even win one of their matches. But not yet.
Leaning over the table, scanning the coordinates to help Pilot untangle navigational data, she heard him come in, whistling softly to himself. He took his time, going from console to console, pretending to check their course, looking at the stars, and then he was next to her, arm pressed against hers, skin hot. He leaned into her, bracketing her just a little. He put his hand on the small of her back, tugging her shirt out of her belt and slipping his fingers under the waistband, stroking softly. She didn't look up, just adjusted their trajectory for Pilot's consideration and followed the data towards the next potential stop for supplies.
"You know," she said. "If you weren't so frelling stubborn, we could frell right here."
His hand stilled. "Really?" Casual,not yet taking the bait.
"Zhaan's meditating, D'Argo's relieving his frustrations at the ooze in his quarters by playing the shilquin and Rygel is in the galley."
"Uh huh."
"This console's steady, could bear our weight. You step up behind me, and I could still finish these checks. Wouldn't collapse under the pressure, and no one here to be shocked. "
He swallowed heavily. " 'Cept Pilot."
"I doubt he'd care. If you wanted to wait until I was done, we'd get some leverage on the console face to face. It's the right height."
"Not really playing fair, Aeryn." She looked at him them, eyebrow lifted, lower lip caught between her teeth.
"I never agreed to play fair, Crichton. Just to play."
He slid his hand down, brushing the globes of her arse. "Guess that's true." He snatched back his hand and slapped her on the eema.
"Oh, you frelling treznot," she bellowed over her shoulder as he sprinted out of command, but she didn't chase after him. She'd won that round.
***
Wedged up in the corner of one of Moya's nooks, bony ridge of golden rib pressing into her spine, she clenched her thighs around his hips as he thrust against her. His mouth was hot and hard against her, kissing her with desperation, with need. He wouldn't make it through this round. She clutched at his neck, leveraged herself up to take some of her weight, taking his tongue into her mouth.
Moya lurched, and Aeryn's head slammed back against the wall with a rough thud. She bit down, tasted blood, and felt her body dropping to the ground.
She landed on her eema.
"Oh, fwuck." He was standing there, tongue between the tips of his fingers, wiggling it around, trying to peer down and see it.
"I awmost bit I in two!"
"What?"
He pulled his tongue out further and she could barely see blood welling on the surface in the dim light of the nook. She winced in sympathy, and he looked down at her.
"You ahwight?"
"Aside from being dropped on my arse, yes?" She paused, then, ""This wouldn't…"
"Don't say it Aeryn, just don't. I'm glad it was my tongue in your mouth, not something else."
Hmm. That was an option. She got to her knees, and reached for his zipper. He was still half hard. Quickly she undid the zip, taking him out of his pants and his shorts.
"Uh uh, oh no." He let go of his tongue. "What if she lurches again. I'd really like Little Johnny to stay whole!"
She gripped him firmly, enjoying the silky skin of his penis, the way it filled her hand and the rich yeasty smell of his skin and his sex.
"Relax, John. You're the one who didn't want to frell the normal way."
And she took him in her mouth. Warmth and heat, a solid throb against her tongue, against the back of her throat. He moaned, grabbed her hair as she sucked, as her fingers found his testicles, stroking and cupping. She sucked hard, using the pressure of her fingers and her tongue to work him quickly and roughly. He whimpered, a low sound of need. She loosened her throat, took him in further, squeezing at the base of his cock and he came, salty and thin, not completely unpleasant, and sharper taste then Sebaceans and she continued to suck, to keep the pressure steady until he gave a hoarse cry that sounded closer to pain then pleasure, and she let him go, let his softening cock slide out of her mouth. Moya lurched and she fell to her side, catching herself with her hands, the shock ricocheting through her wrists. The thumping thud told her John had just bounced off the wall.
She felt around on the ground, finding her shirt and pulled it back on over her head as he slumped against the wall.
"Three for me, I think," she said, wiping her hand with the back of her mouth.
"It ain't field training, Aeryn. No one's keeping score."
"I am," she said and left him there.
***
She leered at him, passing by in the hallway and he grabbed her arm, wheeling her into the empty cell and slamming his hand over the locking mechanism.
She grinned, fierce and happy. Strangely happy. Despite the earlier mishaps, this new approach to frelling had proved highly enjoyable. He stepped close, hands nimble on her pants, unzipping, undoing, unclothing until her thighs and her sex were bare.
"Makin' me a little crazy," he murmured, mouth pursued in confusion, fingers sliding between her thighs, teasing her entrance. "Maybe more than a little." She had learned the curve of his mouth, the way it parted before a kiss and she anticipated his motion, holding his skull, meeting his mouth, wet and slick, her tongue mimicking his fingers, other hand on the curve of his arse. He drew his fingers, slick and damp, up over her belly under her shirt, teasing her nipple through the bra.
"Wanna taste you," he said. "My turn." Breath hot in her ear, and shoved her back, not too much force just enough for intent and she bit her lip, calves butting against the edge of the bunk, legs hampered by her pants and let herself fall back.
He jerked forward, reaching for her, worried, but she knew her angle, her descent.
"You'd be better off on your knees, Crichton," she growled, a mockery of command in her voice.
He gave her a salute, and knelt, tugging her pants down past her knees so that she could spread her thighs. She could feel the moisture from her cunt spreading along the top of her inner thighs, the sleek cool feel of the sheeting underneath her eema, the press of the bunks edge against her right knee, other leg dangling awkwardly.
He stroked her belly with his fingers, lightly, drifting down, sliding over the line right over her hair, then tracing down between the lips and along the perineum to slide between the cheeks of her ass. She grunted, canted up her hips and he stopped his travel, let his finger rest between her cheeks, rubbing a little at the entrance there.
This wasn't a new thing, a hot mouth on her cunt, fingers penetrating. It has always been a welcome thing, different pleasure than a cock, not lesser. Lots of time to kill during basic training, long missions, every variety and position, every orifice, every angle. But Crichton's intent, doing everything like he's writing a manual.
He dipped his head finally, tongue against her, between the lips, nerves alight as he licks. Tongue sliding inside her, finger still teasing, brushing lightly and then he took a chance, took a risk, wiggled a little and slid into her arse. Frell, that was good. Intense, but with delicacy, invading a little at a time. A careful explorer and she liked both his caution and his willingness to proceed. He was parsing her reaction, waiting to see what she'd do. She could feel it in the steadiness of his breathing, the way his other hand splayed her belly, held her in check.
She groaned again, hips bearing down and he swore against her cunt. His mouth tickled and a burst of laughter broke from her throat. She was in a former cell, on a renegade leviathan with escaped prisoners. She was irreversibly contaminated, homeless and exiled, had an alien with his tongue in her sex and his finger up her arse and she was laughing because it felt better than anything she's done in cycles, outside of flying. He chuckled along with her and the vibrations send shockwaves up her body, tiny rolling orgasms that make her close her eyes, thrust against him.
"Both hands," she ordered, voice guttural in the space. "More, and harder."
"Damn you're bossy," he laughed, but he complied, two fingers inside her cunt, veeing out, stroking up, looking for the sweet spot, firmer pressure from behind, and if she'd known he was this ambidextrous she'd have found use for him monens ago, inferior species of not.
"You close?" he asked, head popping up from between her legs like a Keltian rodent peeking out of a desert hole.
"MMM," Syllables were too much effort, she wanted to concentrate on sensation. The single digit withdrew, sliding around in the slickness and then it was more, harder, good man, following orders for once. She groaned, long and low, riding out the twitches, body ripe with the bigger build up, the progression, heat and the pressure. He sucked and thrust, thumb and tongue and clever - oh gods and goddesses and all of her heroes combined - fingers, and she came, hard and wracking, clenching hard enough around him that if they have time to actually frell cock to cunt it's going to hurt. But bruises were not necessarily a bad thing, and small pains can heighten the pleasure.
Her body was lank and lax, spent on the bed, and he propped his head against her thigh, tracing damp sticky circles on her belly. "I'm the frelling Jane Goodall of the UT's. The Louis Leaky of Sebacean sex," he said, grin wide, drawl heavy. "Gonna write a textbook on PK cunnilingus." He was babbling, thumb rubbing a circle on her clit, light and absent and she thought if he could concentrate, he could make her come again. She squeezed her thighs around his ears, surprising him.
"Dude, insatiable," he teased, but he's gained a passing familiarity with her body, and gets a look on his face when he watches her come that she can't quite describe, like there's pleasure to be found in the action of her body.
"Do Sebaceans…?"
Oh, Chilnak, not again. He really was writing a manual.
She growled and he rubbed harder. Oh, yes. Right there. Ask away John. Again, the finger questing down between her arse cheeks, but this time he didn't linger.
Oh. "Yes. Sometimes. With much lubricant," she said, pushing her body up and staring down at him. "And prior warning if you intend to keep the equipment you were born with."
His mouth was twitching, but his hand braced on her thigh, pushing up, pushing out.
"Humans don't?" So many human rules, variations all layered with meaning. How did they keep track?
He shrugged. "Sometimes."
He grinned, tipped his head, acknowledging, "With lots of lube. It's sort of considered… kinky. Illicit."
She snorted. "John. I'm a soldier. Illicit is sucking a cock on duty shift, afraid you're going to get caught. Not anal penetration. That's merely… uncomfortable. Or pleasant, or any of the other things that sex is."
She was finished with this conversation, and using her thighs, her superior strength, she pushed herself off the bed, sliding them to the floor. She couldn't do much to couch his descent and his head bounced a little, but he kept hold of her knee, and despite her hampered ankles, she ended up around his neck. She straddled his face, bracing her hand on the floor in front of his head.
"Aeryn," Zhann's voice flowed through the coms.
"Yes," she bit out the word. Crichton grabbed at her eema, fingers digging in hard and she pressed down, her cunt to his clever mouth, frelling his tongue, his fingers.
"We need you in the bay," Zhaan sounded frazzled. "Rygel thinks he lost something in your prowler engine."
"Frell," she growled, and he laughed against her again. She whacked the top of his head with the flat of her hand and he smacked her on the bare skin of her arse. She grinned.
"Ah, I'm coming, Zhaan."
"You certainly are," he muttered against her thigh, then returned to his task. She slapped her hand against the com and arched back, grinding vigorously, working hips and pelvis, clenching her muscles and came again, skin sensitive, the hard press of his fingers against her skin pushing her, holding her.
"Frell," she shouted as his tongue darted out again, brushing over her lips and she shuddered, another aftershock orgasm and rolled off of him, completely spent.
***
She waited to see if he would make the first foray, and he didn't disappoint. She'd taught him well, and he was too impatient to wait for her thrust. He always had to hit first, couldn't stand the suspense, unable to wait her out. He'd learned to counter quickly though, to not be afraid of his own aggression. Use it to his advantage. Someday, he might even win one of their matches. But not yet.
Leaning over the table, scanning the coordinates to help Pilot untangle navigational data, she heard him come in, whistling softly to himself. He took his time, going from console to console, pretending to check their course, looking at the stars, and then he was next to her, arm pressed against hers, skin hot. He leaned into her, bracketing her just a little. He put his hand on the small of her back, tugging her shirt out of her belt and slipping his fingers under the waistband, stroking softly. She didn't look up, just adjusted their trajectory for Pilot's consideration and followed the data towards the next potential stop for supplies.
"You know," she said. "If you weren't so frelling stubborn, we could frell right here."
His hand stilled. "Really?" Casual,not yet taking the bait.
"Zhaan's meditating, D'Argo's relieving his frustrations at the ooze in his quarters by playing the shilquin and Rygel is in the galley."
"Uh huh."
"This console's steady, could bear our weight. You step up behind me, and I could still finish these checks. Wouldn't collapse under the pressure, and no one here to be shocked. "
He swallowed heavily. " 'Cept Pilot."
"I doubt he'd care. If you wanted to wait until I was done, we'd get some leverage on the console face to face. It's the right height."
"Not really playing fair, Aeryn." She looked at him them, eyebrow lifted, lower lip caught between her teeth.
"I never agreed to play fair, Crichton. Just to play."
He slid his hand down, brushing the globes of her arse. "Guess that's true." He snatched back his hand and slapped her on the eema.
"Oh, you frelling treznot," she bellowed over her shoulder as he sprinted out of command, but she didn't chase after him. She'd won that round.
***
Wedged up in the corner of one of Moya's nooks, bony ridge of golden rib pressing into her spine, she clenched her thighs around his hips as he thrust against her. His mouth was hot and hard against her, kissing her with desperation, with need. He wouldn't make it through this round. She clutched at his neck, leveraged herself up to take some of her weight, taking his tongue into her mouth.
Moya lurched, and Aeryn's head slammed back against the wall with a rough thud. She bit down, tasted blood, and felt her body dropping to the ground.
She landed on her eema.
"Oh, fwuck." He was standing there, tongue between the tips of his fingers, wiggling it around, trying to peer down and see it.
"I awmost bit I in two!"
"What?"
He pulled his tongue out further and she could barely see blood welling on the surface in the dim light of the nook. She winced in sympathy, and he looked down at her.
"You ahwight?"
"Aside from being dropped on my arse, yes?" She paused, then, ""This wouldn't…"
"Don't say it Aeryn, just don't. I'm glad it was my tongue in your mouth, not something else."
Hmm. That was an option. She got to her knees, and reached for his zipper. He was still half hard. Quickly she undid the zip, taking him out of his pants and his shorts.
"Uh uh, oh no." He let go of his tongue. "What if she lurches again. I'd really like Little Johnny to stay whole!"
She gripped him firmly, enjoying the silky skin of his penis, the way it filled her hand and the rich yeasty smell of his skin and his sex.
"Relax, John. You're the one who didn't want to frell the normal way."
And she took him in her mouth. Warmth and heat, a solid throb against her tongue, against the back of her throat. He moaned, grabbed her hair as she sucked, as her fingers found his testicles, stroking and cupping. She sucked hard, using the pressure of her fingers and her tongue to work him quickly and roughly. He whimpered, a low sound of need. She loosened her throat, took him in further, squeezing at the base of his cock and he came, salty and thin, not completely unpleasant, and sharper taste then Sebaceans and she continued to suck, to keep the pressure steady until he gave a hoarse cry that sounded closer to pain then pleasure, and she let him go, let his softening cock slide out of her mouth. Moya lurched and she fell to her side, catching herself with her hands, the shock ricocheting through her wrists. The thumping thud told her John had just bounced off the wall.
She felt around on the ground, finding her shirt and pulled it back on over her head as he slumped against the wall.
"Three for me, I think," she said, wiping her hand with the back of her mouth.
"It ain't field training, Aeryn. No one's keeping score."
"I am," she said and left him there.
***
She leered at him, passing by in the hallway and he grabbed her arm, wheeling her into the empty cell and slamming his hand over the locking mechanism.
She grinned, fierce and happy. Strangely happy. Despite the earlier mishaps, this new approach to frelling had proved highly enjoyable. He stepped close, hands nimble on her pants, unzipping, undoing, unclothing until her thighs and her sex were bare.
"Makin' me a little crazy," he murmured, mouth pursued in confusion, fingers sliding between her thighs, teasing her entrance. "Maybe more than a little." She had learned the curve of his mouth, the way it parted before a kiss and she anticipated his motion, holding his skull, meeting his mouth, wet and slick, her tongue mimicking his fingers, other hand on the curve of his arse. He drew his fingers, slick and damp, up over her belly under her shirt, teasing her nipple through the bra.
"Wanna taste you," he said. "My turn." Breath hot in her ear, and shoved her back, not too much force just enough for intent and she bit her lip, calves butting against the edge of the bunk, legs hampered by her pants and let herself fall back.
He jerked forward, reaching for her, worried, but she knew her angle, her descent.
"You'd be better off on your knees, Crichton," she growled, a mockery of command in her voice.
He gave her a salute, and knelt, tugging her pants down past her knees so that she could spread her thighs. She could feel the moisture from her cunt spreading along the top of her inner thighs, the sleek cool feel of the sheeting underneath her eema, the press of the bunks edge against her right knee, other leg dangling awkwardly.
He stroked her belly with his fingers, lightly, drifting down, sliding over the line right over her hair, then tracing down between the lips and along the perineum to slide between the cheeks of her ass. She grunted, canted up her hips and he stopped his travel, let his finger rest between her cheeks, rubbing a little at the entrance there.
This wasn't a new thing, a hot mouth on her cunt, fingers penetrating. It has always been a welcome thing, different pleasure than a cock, not lesser. Lots of time to kill during basic training, long missions, every variety and position, every orifice, every angle. But Crichton's intent, doing everything like he's writing a manual.
He dipped his head finally, tongue against her, between the lips, nerves alight as he licks. Tongue sliding inside her, finger still teasing, brushing lightly and then he took a chance, took a risk, wiggled a little and slid into her arse. Frell, that was good. Intense, but with delicacy, invading a little at a time. A careful explorer and she liked both his caution and his willingness to proceed. He was parsing her reaction, waiting to see what she'd do. She could feel it in the steadiness of his breathing, the way his other hand splayed her belly, held her in check.
She groaned again, hips bearing down and he swore against her cunt. His mouth tickled and a burst of laughter broke from her throat. She was in a former cell, on a renegade leviathan with escaped prisoners. She was irreversibly contaminated, homeless and exiled, had an alien with his tongue in her sex and his finger up her arse and she was laughing because it felt better than anything she's done in cycles, outside of flying. He chuckled along with her and the vibrations send shockwaves up her body, tiny rolling orgasms that make her close her eyes, thrust against him.
"Both hands," she ordered, voice guttural in the space. "More, and harder."
"Damn you're bossy," he laughed, but he complied, two fingers inside her cunt, veeing out, stroking up, looking for the sweet spot, firmer pressure from behind, and if she'd known he was this ambidextrous she'd have found use for him monens ago, inferior species of not.
"You close?" he asked, head popping up from between her legs like a Keltian rodent peeking out of a desert hole.
"MMM," Syllables were too much effort, she wanted to concentrate on sensation. The single digit withdrew, sliding around in the slickness and then it was more, harder, good man, following orders for once. She groaned, long and low, riding out the twitches, body ripe with the bigger build up, the progression, heat and the pressure. He sucked and thrust, thumb and tongue and clever - oh gods and goddesses and all of her heroes combined - fingers, and she came, hard and wracking, clenching hard enough around him that if they have time to actually frell cock to cunt it's going to hurt. But bruises were not necessarily a bad thing, and small pains can heighten the pleasure.
Her body was lank and lax, spent on the bed, and he propped his head against her thigh, tracing damp sticky circles on her belly. "I'm the frelling Jane Goodall of the UT's. The Louis Leaky of Sebacean sex," he said, grin wide, drawl heavy. "Gonna write a textbook on PK cunnilingus." He was babbling, thumb rubbing a circle on her clit, light and absent and she thought if he could concentrate, he could make her come again. She squeezed her thighs around his ears, surprising him.
"Dude, insatiable," he teased, but he's gained a passing familiarity with her body, and gets a look on his face when he watches her come that she can't quite describe, like there's pleasure to be found in the action of her body.
"Do Sebaceans…?"
Oh, Chilnak, not again. He really was writing a manual.
She growled and he rubbed harder. Oh, yes. Right there. Ask away John. Again, the finger questing down between her arse cheeks, but this time he didn't linger.
Oh. "Yes. Sometimes. With much lubricant," she said, pushing her body up and staring down at him. "And prior warning if you intend to keep the equipment you were born with."
His mouth was twitching, but his hand braced on her thigh, pushing up, pushing out.
"Humans don't?" So many human rules, variations all layered with meaning. How did they keep track?
He shrugged. "Sometimes."
He grinned, tipped his head, acknowledging, "With lots of lube. It's sort of considered… kinky. Illicit."
She snorted. "John. I'm a soldier. Illicit is sucking a cock on duty shift, afraid you're going to get caught. Not anal penetration. That's merely… uncomfortable. Or pleasant, or any of the other things that sex is."
She was finished with this conversation, and using her thighs, her superior strength, she pushed herself off the bed, sliding them to the floor. She couldn't do much to couch his descent and his head bounced a little, but he kept hold of her knee, and despite her hampered ankles, she ended up around his neck. She straddled his face, bracing her hand on the floor in front of his head.
"Aeryn," Zhann's voice flowed through the coms.
"Yes," she bit out the word. Crichton grabbed at her eema, fingers digging in hard and she pressed down, her cunt to his clever mouth, frelling his tongue, his fingers.
"We need you in the bay," Zhaan sounded frazzled. "Rygel thinks he lost something in your prowler engine."
"Frell," she growled, and he laughed against her again. She whacked the top of his head with the flat of her hand and he smacked her on the bare skin of her arse. She grinned.
"Ah, I'm coming, Zhaan."
"You certainly are," he muttered against her thigh, then returned to his task. She slapped her hand against the com and arched back, grinding vigorously, working hips and pelvis, clenching her muscles and came again, skin sensitive, the hard press of his fingers against her skin pushing her, holding her.
"Frell," she shouted as his tongue darted out again, brushing over her lips and she shuddered, another aftershock orgasm and rolled off of him, completely spent.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 12:07 am (UTC)as for the rest...just plain guh. you write these to so well that this feels like an episode. ok, not one that would have made it on air, but still. :)
no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 12:56 am (UTC)*gurgles*
no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 01:59 am (UTC)gurgles is also good.
ps. looking at your icon...i about fell out of my chair when i saw that actress on that episode. wow, what a great surprise that was. ;)
no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 02:02 am (UTC)Thea!porn has a great way of mangling what is left of one's mind - in the best way, of course. ;)
no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 02:37 am (UTC)and a mangled mind can be very good for the soul. *veg*
ps. i'd forgotten her name...all i can think about is delenn...who's name i'm also misspelling. damn, she's a great actor. nice to know she'll be back. :)
no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 07:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 07:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 07:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 12:52 am (UTC):giggles: Guerrilla frelling! :D
no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 07:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 03:09 am (UTC)And I adore John the tease, the flirt. *g*
no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 07:44 am (UTC)Yeah, so glad you liked it:)
no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-18 11:47 pm (UTC)