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In the Stars
By : Bebe
Category: 1 through F > Andromeda
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Disclaimer: Tribune owns all rights to Andromeda.
Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Title: In the Stars
Author: MouseBebe
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A jailbreak leads to a drastic change in Beka and Tyr’s relationship.
Spoilers: Spoilers for Double Helix. Brief mention of information from And Your Heart Will Fly Away.
Pairing: Beka/Tyr
Setting: First season, between Music of a Distant Drum and Forced Perspective.
Disclaimer: Tribune owns all rights to Andromeda.
Archive: Do not archive without express permission.
Feedback: Constructive criticism welcome.
Author’s Note: Chapter titles are drawn from “Rewrite the Stars” from the soundtrack of The Greatest Showman.

Chapter One: You Know I Want You

It took hours for Beka to successfully get to sleep, and that was despite being so tired that she could barely sit down without nodding. It didn’t usually take her this long, but usually she had a blanket or two, the lights off or dimmed, and no guards staring at her every time she twitched. The cot creaked, too.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d actually been asleep, but it probably wasn’t long enough, judging by how groggy she still felt when she woke to a hand on her shoulder. That didn’t stop her reaction to the touch, swinging her arm out before her eyes were even fully open, but it was caught at the wrist at the same time a hand was clapped over her mouth. She twisted her head, to see who she was fighting and figure out what else would work before she tried again, and immediately froze once she focused.
Harper waited a second longer before uncovering her mouth, but when she would have asked questions he put a finger to his own lips. She nodded, letting him pull her up and off the bed. He must have been worried: he barely glanced at her body, minimally covered with just her underwear, and gave her wrist a reassuring squeeze before tugging her to the door of the cell. Tyr was standing there, one of his smaller guns in hand, half out of the door and watching down the corridor. When they drew level to him he gestured them forward, Harper and Beka falling into step behind him. They crept forward, Tyr checking around the corners and only once having to take down a guard.
The gun was almost entirely silent, something that Beka found herself admiring, probably a sign that she had been in that cell way too long. Even moving through the corridors was a thrill. It wasn’t just the motion, either. When she ended up pressed between the two men while Tyr confirmed their route, she was almost dizzy with the sensations. It was strange to see colors other than the gray or beige of the complex and her jailers’ uniforms, and incredible to feel anything other than the thin sheet they’d covered her bed with; Harper’s slippery Hawaiian shirt slithered against her side and she shivered when Tyr’s boneblades whispered across her arm. Their overlapping scents, leather and hair gel and gun oil and grease, filled her nose and mind after the dead, antiseptic smell of the facility, such that she was glad when they moved again and she could focus on that.
There weren’t as many guards as Beka would have expected, but then she didn’t know how many they’d taken out on the way in. On the few occasions she’d been taken out of her cell there’d been a guard at every junction. Despite the twisting halls of the building and checking their corners, it took far less time than she guessed it would for them to reach a door to the outside. There was a guard there, but one solid hit with the stock of Tyr’s gun fixed that, and Harper only took a few seconds to open the lock.
There was a surprising lack of alarms as they stepped through, and an equally surprising amount of flora close to the building, with no fencing that she could see. Harper closed the door behind them and tapped a new code in while Tyr kept a wary eye on the foliage. Immediately heavy bolts shot home on the door with a thunk and dim alarms started wailing inside. Startled, she turned to ask whether Harper had set it off or someone inside had, but Harper put his finger to his lips again. He nodded to Tyr, who took her wrist and gave it a gentle tug.
As soon as they started walking Beka was glad her jailers had given her at least the flimsy slippers she was wearing. They were no comparison to the sturdy boots they’d taken from her, but she didn’t want to walk on the grass and leaf mulch in bare feet. She wanted to complain about the lack of footwear and the abundance of nature, but the warning Harper had given her and the almost complete silence of the other two kept her quiet. The only sounds for long minutes were those from the forest around them and their own shuffling steps and quick breaths. Occasionally that was broken by a distant shout from the facility.
Standing outside the building had been comfortable enough in underwear and thin slippers, with the complex blocking the wind and the sun warming her bare skin, but under the trees the sunshine was patchy and errant breezes slipped through to give her goosebumps. Beka kept shivering, from cold rather than touch this time. She didn’t think either of them would have noticed, but abruptly Tyr motioned them to a stop. When they did, Harper looking curious, Tyr slipped off his long duster-style vest and held it out to her. She stared at it and him for a second, confused, and he sighed silently with apparent frustration before taking one of her hands and sliding the armhole of the vest over it. Understanding now, she moved to let him slide the other side on as well. It was wholly too big, almost dragging the ground, and even wrapping her arms around herself to secure it wasn’t enough to prevent a shoulder slipping off. It smelled like Tyr. More importantly, though, it was warm from his body. She gave him an appreciative smile and he nodded in acknowledgement before urging them all on.
The walk seemed a lot faster now that Beka wasn’t freezing and it wasn’t that long before they arrived at a clearing. It was much like the other two or three they’d walked through but for the large object covered with a camouflage tarp. The cover shimmered faintly as Harper pulled it off and she realized that it was laced with circuitry, presumably to further conceal the slipfighter underneath. Harper folded it up haphazardly and hit the controls to open the small ship.
The sight of that canopy opening was one of the most beautiful things Beka had seen in a while, imprisonment notwithstanding. One thing gave her pause: how were they going to fit three adults, their attendant weaponry and gadgets, and the tarp in a tiny slipfighter? She suspected that if she were to try to ask she would be shushed. Instead she watched as Tyr passed Harper a small gun. The engineer assumed a watchful pose as Tyr, apparently relieved of the burden of protection, hoisted himself into the back compartment. As soon as he was sitting Harper tossed him the tarp one-handed, and that disappeared beside him. Then he reached out and beckoned Beka in. Harper nodded when she glanced over to check, so she started up.
Tyr caught her hand and hauled her in, and she landed across his lap. Before she straightened herself out from her ungainly position, harder with the vest tangled around her legs, Harper vaulted into the pilot’s seat and manually closed the canopy. All the controls were shut down, Beka realized as she wriggled upright, with every panel dead black. The engine was totally cold, without even a standby hum. Tyr pressed a hand against her arm to stabilize her, and when she started to ask about the slipfighter’s status his grip tightened warningly. She took the hint and subsided, waiting impatiently while Harper played with something small from his tool belt rather than starting the slipfighter. At least she was comfortable now that she was inside, out of the wind and in dimmer light, but the close quarters were still messing with her reactions and senses. She chose not to reflect on her feelings about the physical contact with Tyr, her ideas regarding sitting across his hard thighs better left for the privacy of her quarters.
Finally Harper held up the gadget and twisted the control. Nothing happened, though Beka thought she heard a faint susurration, like the wind over the slipfighter’s hull. Harper took out something else and pressed a few buttons on that before smiling and stowing both tools, finally saying something. “Sight for sore eyes, boss. How ya doin’?”
“Been better. I liked those boots.”
“Yeah, I was wondering about the wardrobe.” His gaze dropped to her legs, exposed most of the way up her thigh by the split of the vest. He looked back up almost immediately, probably mindful of how many times she’d threatened him over lecherous behavior.
Feeling on a more even keel now at the easy conversation, though some part of her composure was still fighting with the sensory glut, she said, “Yeah, apparently jailers don’t like it when you have lockpicks after they search you.”
“I told you the one in the waistband was a bad idea.”
“But I bet you still have the blade in your boot, don’t you?” He didn’t answer, which was answer enough. “Anyway, what took you guys so long? And what was with the silent treatment?”
“That was what took us so long. Their security is insane. Entirely sound-based. If any of us had said word one in there we would have been done, thanks to those nasty little nanobots I knocked out once we were sealed in here.” Harper pulled the first gadget out and waved it at her.
Beka stared at him, bewildered. “But I was talking the whole time. They were trying to get me to talk more, though I’m not sure why, since they seemed to know everything already.”
“They felt the need to vary your routine?” Tyr murmured. Beka turned her head just long enough to give him a disapproving look.
“Actually, that was why we didn’t want you talking once we got you out. I wasn’t sure if they would get you once you left your cell, even though the bots would have already had your voiceprint.” He paused. “By the way, the bots… uh… Don’t expect your hair ones to do anything for an hour or two until they reset themselves.” When she transferred the disapproval from Tyr to him, he said, “Hey, would you have preferred to stay there?!” She gave up the glare, instead checking to make sure her hair was at least still blonde. “Rather than let the effusive thanks overwhelm me, I’m gonna get us back to Andromeda. Dylan doesn’t want you flying until he’s sure you haven’t been compromised. Hang tight, this is gonna be a fast takeoff.”
“Really? I was hoping to catch a nap since you guys woke right after I’d finally gotten to sleep.” She thought she heard Tyr make an amused noise, but ignored it, especially since even if he’d made a noise it was obscured by the sounds of him shifting under and behind her to shut the safety strap. She leaned forward to make it easier.
“Honestly, could you be more ungrateful?” But Harper grinned. “You can probably sleep once we’re out of the atmosphere, but I was hoping to regale you with details of the daring rescue on the way back.”
“You can always tell it again later,” she suggested, “though I know you don’t like talking about yourself.”
“Wow, it’s like you know me!”
Beka laughed and leaned back again, having heard the click of the harness behind her. She took advantage of the ship’s short warm-up to settle herself more comfortably, though it was hard to both keep the vest closed over her legs and prevent it twisting around them as she moved. At least Tyr had the decency to ogle discreetly enough that she wasn’t sure he was ogling, while Harper was focused on the instrument panel. She eventually managed to find a reasonable compromise, though the leather kept sliding off the side that wasn’t jammed up against Tyr, and he brought one arm up to support her, an unexpected kindness but one she appreciated. It also sent a few more nerve endings tingling when his fingers brushed the bare skin of her upper arm, although she was fairly sure that was overstimulated senses. Maybe.
She’d barely managed to get situated when she heard the engine fire, and that was all the warning she got before Harper lifted them off the ground. The quick jerk threw her backward, and Tyr caught her leg to help brace her even as his arm tightened around her.
“Sorry!” Harper said, pointing them higher. “But we had company coming, so no time for niceties.”
Beka almost didn’t heard him, focused on the more intense round of tingling racing up her leg from Tyr’s fingers as they brushed her thigh. Maybe not entirely overstimulated nerves, then. “S’okay,” she answered belatedly, “no harm done.”
Tyr seemed startled himself, and she was fairly sure that it wasn’t over the liftoff. He’d probably anticipated company but not her heart skipping a beat. He was also looking down at his own hand, like he hadn’t intended to grab her leg. He probably hadn’t. She didn’t know if he’d intended to move his thumb either, but he was did so anyway, a slow arc over the sensitive inner curve. As soon as they both realized what he was doing, he started to pull his hand away.
This time it was Beka’s turn to do something before she realized it consciously, pushing his hand back down with hers. “Breaking atmosphere still,” she said quietly when he looked back to her, far more breathily than she meant to. At that second an air current buffeted them and he nodded slowly, pressing his hand back down against her skin. She relaxed the pressure of her own in turn, but moved the other to grip the front of his chain mail shirt. Another lurch of the fighter and he slid higher up her leg, his fingertips slipping under the edge of the borrowed vest.
She’d almost forgotten Harper was there. So had Tyr, judging by the jerk when Harper spoke from the front. “We are just… about… there! Yeah! Smooth sailing from here, except for slipstream, of course.”
Beka looked out and felt a lot happier at the sky beyond the windshield turning black. “How many jumps do we have?” It was a fight to sound normal, with Tyr moving his thumb over a slightly higher area and sending more tingles over her skin.
“Three, all short. Want me to tell you about my genius as we go?” He leaned to tap a control and they smoothed out a little.
“Sure, but,” her voice wavered a little as Tyr’s hand swept back down to her knee, though she thought she managed to cover it with a yawn, “don’t expect me to hear all of it. How long’d it take you guys to figure out I was missing, anyway?”
“About three days. It would have been sooner, but…” And he was off and running, chattering about their distrustful new ally and Trance’s planetary guess, but Beka was barely listening. Tyr had stayed at her knee and was now looking at her intently, as if judging her response before acting. Nervous, anticipatory, she swallowed and licked her lips, and he followed the motion of her tongue. He lifted his hand off her leg and carefully traced his thumb over the lower lip.
For one second, she thought he was going to kiss her, inclining his head faintly toward hers, but then Harper’s voice rose and Tyr glanced that way. Rather than kiss her, however much she wanted him to, he cupped his hand around her jaw before slipping the tips of his fingers down the vein at her throat, down her breastbone, until he reached the vee of the crossed-over vest. Her breath caught while they rested there.
He glanced again at Harper, still talking and more importantly not looking back, before sliding his fingertips slowly under the leather. She got one quick inhalation and then those fingers were insinuating themselves under the fabric of her bra. The caress was brief, just a foray over the the curve, but when he drew back she pressed her hand over his again. Inscrutable, he heeded her guidance, moving back underneath. She couldn’t help the gasp when he rolled the nipple between his fingers. Immediately he pulled his hand away, both of them waiting a breathless instant to see if Harper had noticed.
He hadn’t, talking about who they’d had to pay off to find out about the prison complex. Beka relaxed infinitesimally and she felt Tyr doing the same. Looking back at him, she raised an eyebrow as soon as he met her gaze and glanced back down at his hand, resting against her abdomen. It was just below er breast now, far away enough to be decent but close enough that she could feel the heat of it. Amusement touched Tyr’s lips, an upward twitch, and he moved to cover her breast again. Even through the leather the touch was enough to make her flush warmer, after not having had contact for so long. Rather than slide under her clothes again, he pressed his hand against her abdomen. It didn’t stay, though. Right then Harper warned, “Slipstream in three… two…” and Tyr’s hand went back to her leg to brace her just as Harper shouted, “One!” and the fighter lurched onto the strings.
Beka grabbed for something to steady herself with, her free hand on Tyr’s knee as the other tightened on his shirt. The arm around her gripped harder and she thought he wouldn’t do anything more until they dropped out of slipstream, but she was proven wrong immediately. Tyr started to move the hand on her leg. It had been near her knee; now it slid in what was for her overexcited nerves a torturously slow fashion were it not for the motion of the slipfighter pushing it up in funny little surges. He was most of the way up her thigh when they dropped out of slipstream, the final lurch sliding it up even more.
“One down, two to go!” Harper announced cheerfully. “Anyway, we had to get through…”
Beka felt a twinge of guilt over tuning him out, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the more pleasurable feelings being created. Tyr had stopped moving his hand after they were out of the ‘stream, the exit leaving it only a couple of centimeters from her underwear. He hadn’t stopped moving his fingers, though, slow sweeps over the outside of her thigh and counterpoint where his thumb rested. Unlike the earlier sudden flush, this time the heat was slower-building. She bit her lip rather than let the request to move higher escape. She didn’t have to ask, anyway, Harper announcing their next jump as it happened and giving them no time to prepare before the jerk that sent Tyr’s thumb to press against the suddenly thin barrier of her underwear. Beka arched up to the sudden pressure, Harper she hoped not noticing the cry that escaped. Tyr did, his hand on her arm squeezing almost painfully and his eyes wide. He didn’t move away, though, and the slight motion from slipstream had her biting her lip, even before the drop out of the jump slid his thumb firmly and directly over her clit.
Beka was panting for breath already just from that, her whole body screaming for something. She froze when Harper asked, “You okay, Beks? Thought I heard you yell.”
“I believe Captain Valentine was falling asleep prior to our last jump,” Tyr lied smoothly. “Perhaps more warning for the next one?”
“Right, sorry. You guys are being so quiet I nearly forgot you were back there. Thought I was talking to myself. Beka, you want me to stop if you’re falling asleep?”
Happily she managed to make her voice halfway normal, helped by Tyr easing back a little. “No, keep talking, I’m listening some.”
“Okay. We won’t be flying much longer anyway, one more jump.”
“Just a short nap then.”
“Yeah, exactly. Anyway, we had to probe…”
As soon as Harper restarted his soliloquy Tyr moved his hand again, but surprised her by passing his earlier position. This time it was under the vest and up to her waistband, and she understood. He hesitated for a beat, probably at the line he was about to cross, but then those warm fingers were against her bare skin, and she held very still as the first tentative touch reached soft, wet flesh.
Tentativeness quickly gave way to surety. She’d never seen him with a woman before but he seemed to know what he was doing judging by the skillful touch. She didn’t have much time to contemplate that as he played with her sensation-starved body. He dipped further, barely pressing his fingertips against her entrance and teasing her with them. She was arching up, mutely begging for more, when Harper announced their next jump. She blinked, distracted for just a second, and that was the second Tyr chose to slip one finger into her.
Beka barely bit back another cry at the feel of it, instead closing her eyes and gripping tighter, leather under her nails and chain link biting into her palm. She didn’t care. Tyr was moving his finger into her and almost out again, pressing up against the sweet spot just inside, the jerky motions of the ‘stream making it more thrilling— and, she suspected, Harper’s presence as well. She didn’t care, not after Tyr shifted his thumb to rub firmly against her clit. After weeks without even her own touch in that cell, the surprisingly expert stimulation of Tyr’s finger and thumb had her on the edge already, wound tighter than she would have thought possible in the space of those jumps, and she’d have begged for more if she’d been able to catch her breath to do so.
She got it without having to ask, the last great shudder as they shot out of slipstream making Tyr’s hands tense and sending her whole body into great rippling spasms as the feeling seized her. He kept it going, giving her something to gyrate against to get just a little bit more.
All too soon they faded and he must have noticed, easing out and away. Beka sighed, satisfied but still wishing for more even as he tugged her underwear back into place, fingertips warm and sticky against her stomach.
“Yeah,” she heard Harper say, “I always feel that way when we get back to the Andromeda, too.”
She could see above them the curves of the warship coming into view. Hoping she sounded normal, she answered, “I think I’ll be happier when I see my own ship again.”
“So picky.” Still, he sounded entertained when he contacted Andromeda to let them in to dock.
Beka looked back at Tyr now that Harper’s attention was diverted again. He was watching her intently. She’d felt him shift as she spoke and now he was wiping his fingers off with some sort of cloth or tissue; the light was dim enough that it was hard to tell. Another shift and he put it back in the pocket from whence, presumably, it came. He was still watching, and when she took a deep breath to try to even the pattern out his eyes dropped to her breasts, uncovered by the fall of the vest. She became acutely aware of the cold spot on her arm, left by the removal of his hand. “I—“
He put a finger to her lips, glanced warningly at the front seat. She considered Harper and closed her mouth before anything incriminating escaped. Instead she waited as he carefully avoided touching her skin while he pulled the vest up to cover her again, the motion teasing even now. One fold had caught underneath her. Using the leverage she had from where her hands rested on him, she lifted just enough for him to tug it free. When she eased back down again, it was in a slightly different spot, and he tensed at her weight against something hard and thick. His motions stopped.
Aware of the looming bay, Beka started to slide her hand down the chainmail, but he shook his head, mouthed, “Later.”
Taking it as a promise, she let go of him and drew the edges of the vest to overlapping again. He resettled his hands on her arm and knee, the latter made more innocent by dint of the layer of leather now between. That done, she leaned back into his arm again and whispered, “Later,” quietly enough that only he heard.

Landing in the bay set off a cascade of events. Beka was whisked away by Trance immediately, Rommie following close behind for security. Harper started checking over the slipfighter while Dylan asked them both a barrage of questions. Tyr was short answering them, discomfort and dissatisfaction making it difficult to withstand the captain’s desire for detailed answers. It was with a final admonishment to tell him if they thought of any other details that Dylan left, and Tyr was able to go himself, heading for his quarters and a shower. Ostensibly it was to wash off any grime and dead nanobots from the planet; practically the water was icy and he spent extra time scrubbing away Beka’s scent.
His next stop was the mess deck. He wasn’t surprised to find Harper and Beka there, both apparently also freshly showered, sitting at a table with Trance. They were talking enthusiastically about something between bites, but Tyr chose to disregard the topic after determining it was Harper’s tale of the rescue repeated. He nodded to Trance, who looked away from the others just long enough to give him one of her oddly knowing smiles, before getting something to take back to his quarters. The rest of the day went on as normally as life aboard usually did. When he crossed paths with Beka she treated him as she would have previously, as did the others. Trance was the only one to change her behavior, with that strange smile; he suspected that it was not because of something Beka had said but as a result of their actions regardless. Nonetheless he ate, worked in the gym, made repairs, and answered more of Dylan’s questions as he thought of them, and so the day passed.
His hesitations were in how well Beka’s scent clung to his thoughts, if not his body, and the ease of remembering how she’d looked and felt as she orgasmed, the way her body clutched at his fingers. Each time he let his mind stray, his blood heated until he could barely concentrate on his work. He was relieved, at the end of the day, to retire to his quarters, where he could at least attempt to distract himself with more entertaining pursuits. When even that failed, instead revisiting the sound of the cry escaping her lips at his touch or the sight of her skin pale against the black of his vest, he could resolve to make an early night of it and forget the mania for a few hours.
That was also not to be. He went through the usual rituals, did all he could to prepare for sleep, and yet sleep eluded him. He twisted in the bed, unable to relax for over an hour, until at last he pushed back the covers. If ignoring it wouldn’t give him peace, then perhaps confronting it would gain some concession from himself. Tyr didn’t bother dressing, padding through the corridors unshod and in sleepwear. The ship had seen him like that before, after all, and most of the crew was not around. He didn’t bother with Beka’s quarters. Not only was she more likely to retreat to her own ship when under stress but he had not heard any sounds of occupation through the shared wall of the senior officers’ quarters. There was a chance that she would be keeping Harper company on Command deck during his shift that evening, of course, in which case Tyr could plead searching for an item of his as an excuse for a foray to the Maru.
There was no need for an excuse. He met no one on the way, and when he boarded the Maru he could hear Beka toward the front, singing quietly. Something from one of her ancient discs, probably, but not actually playing, as he could hear nothing that would suggest music other than her voice as he moved deeper into the ship.
She was sitting in the pilot’s chair, singing intermittently still and tapping at the interfaces, though she must have heard him board. Tyr stepped deliberately loudly on one of the noisier sections of the grating to catch her attention. She twisted to see him and nodded in acknowledgement before returning to her task. Content to wait for the moment, he went to the cockpit steps and sat on the top one, elbows resting on his knees, listening to her drop into humming instead of singing. She must have been preparing for bed as well, likewise without footwear and dressed in a tank top and shorts, with shadows under her eyes, but she kept tapping for several more minutes. At last she finished with a rapid staccato and turned in the chair to face him. “You did say ‘later,’ didn’t you?”
“I did,” he allowed, still studying her. Perhaps she was as unsettled by the experience as he?
“Well,” she stood and took the step to stand before him, “it is later.”
“It is.” He leaned back to look at her more easily, moving his arms to the upper level. Rather than act and forestall any insights of hers, he waited.
He did not have to wait long. As he did, reining in his curiosity, Beka hesitated only briefly. With the faintest mischievous look, she moved astride his knees and sank down onto them. He barely anticipated the maneuver in time to brace for her weight, something necessary once she reached for him.
Her touch was tentative, much as his had been on the slipfighter before, and it was just as carefully that she traced the musculature of his chest. Her fingertips were warm and almost ticklish as they traveled down over his stomach, and he had to will himself to remain still as they agitated nerve endings that were not only unaccustomed to a woman’s touch but overreactive after making her orgasm earlier in the day. By the time she reached the waistband of his pants, the amount of blood pooling below was almost embarrassing, or would have been if she were not experiencing the same thing to judge by the flush to her skin and the increased heart rate. But Beka’s own reactions did not prevent her from wreaking havoc on his.
Working deliberately and with precision, she eased the waistband out and and away, and again he had to force himself to remain motionless as she moved the fabric down to reveal his erection. He watched her, though, and was gratified by the pleased expression that flickered across her face when she saw it. Still with that purposeful motion, she got the pants down to the front of his thighs, as far as they could go with him sitting, and rather than let them slide back up those warm fingers surrounded him, lifted him, so the ridge of fabric was underneath him. He regretted her letting him go then, despite the same pleased look at the way the taut cloth pushed him forward proudly, but he would not ask. She hadn’t, in the slipfighter, no matter what she had clearly wanted, and in this moment he would do no more than she had. He pressed his palms harder to the grating.
And yet either he betrayed himself in some fashion or she knew how much he wanted that touch back. He drew a deep breath as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft. He had to look away from the sight, lifted his eyes to hers, and for the briefest of moments they simply stared, contemplating this boundary, these new possibilities. Then Beka licked her lips nervously, cast her eyes downward, and when her hand tensed ever so slightly on him that same breath escaped him. It broke the spell over them. With that final hesitation gone she adjusted her grip and stroked slowly up his length.
The effect of just that simple touch was overwhelming, heat rushing through his body, and he groaned. The next stroke was more intense, a twist of her fingers at the tip slipping slightly in the fluid gathering there, and his shudder nearly unbalanced her. She pressed her other hand to his chest to steady herself and repeated the gesture.
A fourth, a fifth, and he was fighting the urge to thrust up, his whole body tensed with need. The feel of her grip sliding over his cock, the smell of her own arousal in his nose, even the rub of the cloth under his sac pushed him close to the edge far too soon. He wanted to slow it down, wanted to hold out and enjoy this for just a little while longer, but he was already so tight-strung that with only one more stroke and twist he was shuddering again as his climax ripped through him, his hips lifting despite his attempt to resist only seconds before, and Beka moved with him to give him wave after wave of sensation until he was spent, his arms shaking under his own weight.
Quickly reaching the point where even the slightest touch was too much, Tyr was relieved that she let go before he had to marshal the words to request it, although what of him was not in a stupor was concerned at her further plans. He needn’t have worried, though, at least at that second. All she did— not that “all” described it— was lean in for a kiss. She pressed his hand a little more firmly against his chest and then met his lips with her own, soft and warm, full of promise as she lightly flicked her tongue against his when his mouth opened under hers. He wondered again what she would want from him now, with the kiss almost more intimate than what had come before, the suggestion in the suggestion of heat and damp through the fabric where she sat astride his knees.
With that in mind, then, he was surprised when she pulled reluctantly away from him. When he would have asked, she moved her hand from his chest, thumb blocking the question before it formed. “Wait,” she told him, and so he did, staying still on the step as she moved around him and away, off the bridge. He listened, not fool enough to place his fate fully in her hands, and could hear her walking a short way down the ship, water running in the head, before she returned carrying a cloth. A damp one, he realized, when she crouched beside him on the upper level and started cleaning his stomach. She’d washed her hands, too. Amazingly, his clothing was untouched, and once she finished wiping his skin she eased his pants back into place. There was quiet between them for a long moment after that, Beka folding the cloth and avoiding his gaze. He kept his silence, waiting for some explanation; he hadn’t thought she would be reticent about sex. While he knew his own reasons for his aberrant behavior, his own attraction to her from their first day aboard coupled with her proximity, he did not know hers, and this day had been such a departure from their usual interactions…
“So,” Beka said at last, still not looking at him, “I guess we’re even now. If you— if you want to go and just forget about it, no harm, no foul, go ahead.”
He shifted to one arm, turning to see her better, and reached with the other to lift her chin, to get her to meet his eyes. Rather than speak immediately, he kissed her. This was more blatantly sexual than hers had been, and he heard her moan quietly when he pressed inside her mouth, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair. When it ended, he drew back far enough to say, “I didn’t come here to even a score.”
“Then why?” She searched his face. Unable to provide a reason, there being none he was able or willing to admit even to himself, Tyr shrugged and shook his head, feeling oddly embarrassed. “Right.” She glanced down to retrieve the cloth, having dropped it during the kiss. “If you decide why, can it wait until morning? I’m still pretty tired and Trance told me to, and I quote, ‘rest and recover’ tonight.” She stood, his eyes following her up her body, and the motion brought a new and tantalizing wave of her scent. “Of course,” she added, a suddenly flirtatious tone in her words, “that doesn’t mean you have to leave. I can always share a bed.” Her final comment delivered, she turned and sauntered down the deckplates toward the bunkroom.
Tyr hesitated a moment, not wanting to consider the ramifications of her offer or his motivations for accepting it, before standing. When he caught up to her, she had thrown the cloth in with the other laundry and was peeling off her stained tank top. She stopped when she saw him, seeming surprised, but resumed the motion when he reached to help her with it. It followed the cloth, then she shed her shorts as well, leaving her naked before she slid away from his hands and into her bunk. Once under the covers, she looked at him expectantly.
Realizing what she was waiting for, he stripped as well, leaving the sleep pants on the bunk opposite. She watched him as he did, lifting the blanket when he approached the bunk. Without missing a beat, though a part of him wondered what he was doing, he joined her. He settled on his back, taking up most of the bunk, but Beka moved just moved closer, her body stretched the length of his and an arm and a leg draped across his torso and thighs. He shifted his arm as she did, carefully, so her head was pillowed on his shoulder and his hand resting on her back, boneblades away from that smooth skin. He had to stifle a groan as her breasts pressed against his side. He could feel her damp against his hip, too, another temptation, but then she sighed and relaxed against him despite the strength of her smell. The shadows under her eyes were pronounced in the light from the galley, and so he let her be and relaxed himself.
And so they slept.

Beka woke up slowly from pleasant dreams informed by the day and night before. She was wrapped around someone tall, broad, and muscular, comfortably warm from his body heat and the blanket and more than warm from anticipation. Tyr had chosen to stay, after all, though she would have bet he would go once satisfied, and he had at the least pure physical interest still, judging by the erection trapped beneath her thigh. She had been surprised by the initial gesture yesterday and stunned that he had sought her out last night, but for him to sleep in her bed with her went far beyond what she would have ever expected from the enigmatic Nietzschean. Never mind that she had caught him surveying her assets— one in particular— more than once.
Still, she hesitated to make any sort of gesture of her own now. Who knew why he had, after all? And while she’d had her share of one-night stands, they didn’t usually involve a Nietzschean or not actually having sex. This was new territory.
The thought of what territory they had covered made her skin tingle where she was pressed against him and that was enough to encourage her in one direction. She turned her head just far enough to press a kiss to the shoulder her head had been resting on before venturing, “Morning?” She looked up at him then.
Tyr was regarding her with a slumberous look, belied by the hand on her lower back shifting to her ass. “Morning.”
Well. That answered whether he was still interested. She was also impressed by the fact that he could reach her ass with that arm, as that was the one around her rib cage. His height was definitely an advantage there. She had one question before indulging any more, though. “I probably should have asked last night,” and she could just see his other hand moving as she spoke, “but do you have to be on Command or anywhere else early? I’m free for the day, since Dylan wants me to, ah,” his palm was against her jaw, fingers threading between strands of hair, “to recuperate a little longer.”
“I have to be on Command,” and he tilted his head toward hers, “but not for quite a while.”
She would have responded, but then he kissed her and she had other things in mind than answering. Verbally, anyway. She moaned against his mouth and his hand tightened on her, dragging her up his hip just enough to heat her blood. She kissed him with renewed zeal. A sound that was almost a purr rumbled in his chest, vibrating her hand where it rested, and he repeated the motion to grind her against him deliberately. She broke the kiss for a gasp at the sensation of pressure where she wanted it most.
Tyr looked pleased, the impression brief but there; she didn’t care within the next few seconds as he started arousing her in earnest. Over and over again he drove her into him, making her moan again and drop her head onto his shoulder, the motion too much for her to stay steady enough to kiss him much though she may have wanted to. Once she turned her head enough to kiss the heel of his hand, a fleeting brush of her lips against his skin, but she heard and felt the catch in his breath when she did, the hesitation reminding her that she wasn’t alone in this. The rush of sensation as he moved her next nearly drove the thought from her mind, but she remembered enough to kiss his shoulder again to try to focus and moved her own hand down.
His abdomen rippled under her touch, and when she reached his cock the head was already slick. He paused his own movements when she did, and in the brief moment of lucidity that came with it she wondered how he’d gotten that far so soon. But her leg had been over him, and she must have been pressing against him in those minutes where she had been getting so much more aroused herself, unconsciously doing the same for him. Now he made a strangled noise as she rubbed her fingers over the tip.
This, knowing what to do, how to get the reactions she wanted, put her back on a firmer footing. She smiled before kissing him again, stretching up to slip her tongue into his mouth. Just because she could, she let her fingers slide at the same time. This time she moved her hand when his own dug into her, drove her hard against him, and the breath broke from his lungs when she did. Pleased by both his move and the result of hers, she took the initiative, bucking her hips and stroking him at the same time.
She didn’t get the chance again. Tyr let go of her head to drop his own back against the pillow, grip her knee where it lay across him, and she could touch him still but then he moved her again. Her eyes closed at the intensity. Before had been teasing compared to this, hard and fast and forcing them both higher, her fingers jerking around him with each push and pull of her body. She felt the first tremors begin, but what tipped her over into her orgasm was the sound and feel of his: one last groan, the almost punishing grip on her flesh, a shudder racing through him, and that rush of him getting off without her even trying was a powerful aphrodisiac, her own muscles tightening and clenching as she came.
The spasms shook her for a long time, the ferocity stunning for all that they had done, and Tyr was trembling underneath her for even longer, his thin sheen of perspiration matching her own. Eventually his hands relaxed; one slid up her back to rest over her spine, the motion accompanied by a deep sigh. Satisfaction? Or something else? Pleasantly satiated herself, Beka pressed another kiss to his chest before resting her head back on his shoulder. They’d have to get up eventually, but she was warm and limp, the only thing keeping her from falling back asleep the motion of Tyr’s thumb rubbing slowly over her knee.
She could have stayed there all morning, but at last she felt Tyr shift beneath her and knew what he was going to say before he did. “You need to go?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” He paused before asking, “If I could shower?”
“Yeah, of course.” Reluctantly she eased off of him. She was definitely going to need to clean up herself. He was worse, but she was sticky in spots, too. She was tempted to ask about sharing the shower, but knew from experience that the Maru’s shower would be too small to be comfortable. It wouldn’t exactly be efficient in general either, she suspected. Instead she just enjoyed the view as he got up, stretched, and walked out of the bunkroom. He walked very slowly.
He showered quickly, however, and came back while she was still deciding whether or not to sleep a little longer. Neither of them said anything as he retrieved the pants he’d worn the night before and dressed. After that, though, he came over and crouched beside the bunk. “I expect I’ll see you aboard the Andromeda later?” He sounded surprisingly uncertain.
She was feeling uncertain herself, doubts creeping in the longer she lay there. “If you mean, like, in the mess, yes. Otherwise, I… don’t know?”
Tyr nodded like he had anticipated that answer. He probably had. She waited for him to say something else or maybe kiss her, a possibility she was beginning to like, but all he did was reach out and gently stroke her cheek. She was surprised by the warmth she felt in her chest at the touch. Without another word he stood and left her to her confused thoughts.
She gave up on sleep at that point. There was no way she could now, not with that last gesture of his weighing on her. Sex— well, sexual activity— she could do. Simple, uncomplicated, straightforward, what she’d wanted with Tyr pretty much once he’d stopped trying to kill her that first day. His fingers on her cheek, though? That seemed oddly emotional.
No matter what she tried to focus on, she couldn’t get rid of that idea, unless it was by dwelling on their actions that morning and the day before. Every time she thought she’d gotten away from it, she would be blindsided mentally by wondering what that touch or the statement about not knowing why he was there meant or by some physical memory of the way he had touched her or the look on his face when he’d come. The former considerations concerned her and the latter warmed her at inopportune moments. Either way, she tried. She fixed or cleaned up what needed to be dealt with aboard her ship, ate breakfast more out of habit than because she actually felt hungry, tried to read before giving up and moving to her quarters aboard the Andromeda to see if that jarred her mind out of its apparent rut. Finally she gave up. “Rommie, when does Tyr get off Command?”
“He’s just leaving now.”
“Thanks.” She headed for the door. She wanted to get some answers.
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In the Stars	By : Bebe Category: 1 through F > Andromeda Views: 302 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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In the Stars