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In the Stars
By : Bebe
Category: 1 through F > Andromeda
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Chapter List
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In the Stars
Chapter Three: Maybe the World Could Be Ours

Much though Tyr may have wanted to find Beka again soon, circumstances precluded that for several days. Her captors catching up with them and the ensuing entanglements, the repairs that resulted, and a pre-arranged diplomatic event once they’d recovered from that consumed their time. The one ordinary day in between offered no opportunities, their shifts end-to-end and others needing them when they weren’t on Command. It was impossible to indulge in more than a lingering look or a casual touch as they passed each other. Each night he was acutely aware of the hours that had passed since she was last in his bed and his increasing desire to have her there again.
But those intentional brushes of fingers as they passed flexis on Command were more than enough confirmation that it was opportunity rather than inclination that was keeping her from him. The way he could hear her heart tripping faster when he spoke to her, close and quiet, was both indication and aphrodisiac, and he bided his time until he could do more than just murmur in her ear to achieve that result.
At last there came a day when there was no apparent impediment to him finding her. Knowing that neither of them had any obligations on the ship or off, Dylan and Trance having taken the Maru to Sinti and Harper overseeing the ship processing asteroids, his intent was to act on the spoken agreement and the unspoken promises by the end of the day. That chance came earlier than he thought it would, when he arrived at the ship’s gym to find Beka already there.
She didn’t seem surprised to see him. It was hardly an unusual place for him to be and it was not unheard of for them both to be exercising at the same time. He himself was surprised, but less by her presence than by his visceral reaction to it, perhaps not aided by the more-revealing-than-usual clothing she wore, even if its nature was more for ease of movement than enticement. He did not betray that, however, not completely sure of how to navigate this new arrangement. “Beka.”
“Tyr.” She set the weights down and sat up. “Looking for me or coincidence?”
“Coincidence, though a fortunate one.” He stepped closer, hearing her take a breath when he did so. She didn’t smell aroused and he wondered briefly if the motion had alarmed or unnerved her. In the next second she put that notion to rest, standing and coming toward him. He waited, willing her closer as she did, until she was centimeters away. He took a deep breath himself then, smelling her, and there. Under the metal of the weights she’d been holding, under clean sweat and soap and the ship’s detergent, and getting stronger as she spoke.
“Very fortunate.” Her voice was quiet, and though he could hear her without issue he still found himself drawing nearer. Expecting seduction, he was caught off-guard by her suddenly playful tones as she continued, “I could use some help with my last set of weights.”
“I—” he started, then paused. Sorting through what he had expected, seeing that she was smirking and waiting for his reaction, he finally finished, “I would be more than willing to. But that’s not why I would have thought it fortunate.”
“Oh, come on, Tyr. I would have thought survival was your highest value.” She didn’t wait for a response, turning and heading back to the bench she’d been at.
He followed, remembering the conversation. “It is. But survival is not always served best by being served first.”
“I’m still pretty sure you don’t want to die sometime because I’m just a little weaker than I could be, would you?” She settled back, seeming pleased with herself.
He wanted to argue, but thought better of it. She was not intrinsically wrong— he would always prefer life to death— however much he may have wanted to take issue with her phrasing and her casual disregard of just how much Nietzscheans valued reproduction. And here, when they were not in fact reproducing? Survival first, always. That didn’t prevent his body and to an extent his mind from betraying him at the imitation and the promise thereof. Choosing the better option, he gestured to the weights. “Well?”
“Pleased with herself” became “inordinately amused,” but she leaned back to take the weights and he moved to stand where he could catch them if necessary. The amusement disappeared as they lapsed into relative silence, even his frequent admonishments about her form unvoiced today. It may have been that she was focusing better than usual, but it may also have been his own distraction from the task; he was finding it difficult to concentrate when memories of the last time they’d been alone together intruded with every moment. While she worked, his suspicion grew that she suffered from a similar level of distraction. It was not just the quiet itself, given that she routinely sacrificed breath for discussion, but the glances she sent him every time she paused. Once she did start to slip with a weight, and when he caught her wrist to guide it back her breath caught in turn. They were not guarantees, no, but her strengthening scent did not lie and only compounded his own lack of focus.
The exercise had stretched to eternity by the time she set the weights down. He wondered which was the reason for the pink flush on her cheeks as she stood to face him. “You did well,” he offered, not sure what else to say.
“I— Right.” She glanced down, briefly, and while he doubted it was meant to be any kind of commentary, the gesture did nothing to make him less aware of his arousal, visible with the close-fitting shorts he wore. Whether it was intentional or unconscious, neither worried him, as her next action was to touch his chest, barely making contact but still enough to command his full attention. “Thanks for the help, but I think I’m done for now, so I’ll let you… go exercise. Or whatever. I’m going to go back to my quarters and shower. So if you need something or want to to talk or need someone to watch to make sure you don’t drop a bar on your neck or something, well, you know where I’ll be.”
He hesitated before answering, not sure entirely what she was hoping for as a response, but she waited as he considered. Finally, he concluded, “I believe I’ll be there when I’m finished here.” She nodded and left. He watched her go, regretting already the loss of both her presence and that casual touch. She had, however, been correct in her assessment that he should put survival first, so he set to work.
In theory.
In actuality he found it increasingly challenging to observe the forms, especially with Beka’s scent still winding through the gym. He couldn’t think of anything but her and the resultant physical discomfort, especially with that last touch and the assurance of welcome should he follow. At last he conceded defeat, setting down the weights and left the gym. The distance to her door was far too long, and if he could have he would not have stopped at the door. Even how quickly she answered did not allay his impatience.
When she did answer… Tyr had difficulty mustering words. She had to have been either in the shower she’d mentioned or just getting out, her hair wet, and beads of water dripping and rolling down her shoulders to the towel at her breasts. Unconsciously or not she rescued him from his brief muteness when she said, amusement in her voice again, “That didn’t take long.”
He stepped forward, she stepped back, and he told her, as he crossed the threshold, “I decided to observe other values.”
Without a pause she reached past him to press the door access, closing it behind him. “So I see. Rommie, privacy mode, please.” The ship sounded aggrieved as she acknowledged it, but did so without further argument, and by the time she had and the door was closed he’d taken Beka by the arm and pulled her to him.
She came immediately, eagerly tilting her mouth to his and curling her fingers into the wide mesh of the shirt he wore as if to keep him close. She needn’t have worried: he wanted her lips, her touch, and was already holding her upper arms to keep her with him where he needed her to be.
And he needed more than just her presence. He took what she offered, invading her mouth and demanding more, and she met his intensity, her nails catching his skin as well as his clothes. He groaned as she grazed the edge of a nipple. He wanted the thin barrier gone, and pulled away from her kiss just long enough to jerk it off before reclaiming her. She started to protest when he let go, barely got a noise out before he kissed her again, and what had started as a word became a moan instead. Her hands had settled at his waist, and when he moved to her neck, licking at the path of the water droplets, she dug her fingers in. Deliberate, taunting, enticing; he moved to her shoulder and bit where it wouldn’t show, thrilled at the shudder that ran through her when he did. “Tyr…”
He sucked at the spot, making her gasp. “Do you want me to stop?” It wasn’t really a question, hearing as he did her heartbeat. He lifted his head long enough to see that she was flushed now for reasons that had nothing to do with exercise or even the heat of her shower.
She licked her lower lip, perhaps unconsciously, and then her hands moved. “No, what do you think?” And she hooked her fingers into the waistband of the shorts he’d worn to the gym, her knuckles rubbing against his hips as she eased them down. And no, he would have been surprised if she had, but the confirmation was emboldening, as was the way she was skimming her fingers over his thighs as she undressed him. She met his eyes in a dare and he bared his teeth in response before pulling her back up to his mouth by the grip he still had on her arms. Rough it may have been, but she responded passionately and dug her nails in at his waist again. Possessively?
He bit her again, her lip this time, to make her moan before stepping out of his clothes, backing her towards the wall by the door. She let him, though her breath came short when her shoulders bumped the cold metal. With a tug at her towel it came loose and fell to their feet, leaving her as naked as she had rendered him, and he pulled her to him to feel her the length of his body. Her skin was warm, still damp from the shower, and now he could smell her easily as they kissed, her arousal stronger than ever and snaring his senses.
He wanted her. Damn Nietzschean custom, his lineage, her Human heritage; all he wanted, needed at that moment was to be inside her, make her his, and he groaned as she stretched a little taller and pressed a little closer to invade his mouth in turn, her aggression almost Nietzschean. His erection was trapped between them, rubbing against her soft stomach and driving him mad, and the willpower that was all that was keeping him from sliding her up the wall and acting on that need was rapidly fading.
“Beka,” he gasped, breaking the kiss, wanting something, “please.” And he captured one of her hands with his, brought it between them, reluctant to beg but having to ease the ache before he broke his own rules. She hesitated, searching his eyes for just a second before wrapping her fingers around him.
It may not have been what he wanted most, but the first smooth slide of her hand over him helped push away the urge to betray himself. And it was pleasing, the touch of a woman what he fought his whole life for, even if it wasn’t this specific woman. She continued, sure and steady strokes, his universe narrowing down to the way Beka Valentine moved. Feeling himself weakening, he braced his hands against the wall behind her, needing the support but not wanting to hurt her with his strength. This close he pressed his nose into her still-wet hair to breathe her in.
The shift didn’t alter her pace, but it must have told her what she was doing to him. She leaned to meet him, bit at his shoulder— remembering how he’d liked her teeth before? He groaned at the next bite, thrusting forward into her hand, unable to restrain the reaction to the violent pleasure.
Everything— the smell and sound of her, the inciting touches— rapidly became too much, too overwhelming. When she bit him again it tipped him to the breaking point. He shook under her touch, knowing only her and what she was doing to him so easily, needing everything she was giving him and more. And she offered it to him, moving her hand over him still and coaxing more until he was unable, leaning more heavily to the wall. And she stayed with him, silent, holding him as if she knew how he must have been leveled by it all.
They stood that way, simply existing, for a long minute. At last he found the strength to rely on himself rather than the wall, levered away enough that he could lean to kiss her again. While he was satisfied for the moment, she was not, her response impatient and demanding, invading his mouth as soon as her lips touched. He wanted to smile, at both the assertiveness and at how aroused she was by him, but thought she might not take it well even if he could. Instead he reciprocated, building her higher and wondering what she wanted him to do for her, and then. He broke the kiss reluctantly, conflicted at the sound of disappointment when he let her go. “Beka.” She looked at him, blatantly impatient, and once he was sure he had her full attention he went to his knees before her. One hand around her ankle, lifting slowly to let her adjust, and she flattened her own hands against the wall in his peripheral vision. Giving herself stability as her balance shifted? She didn’t move otherwise, even holding her breath as he slid her leg over his shoulder to open her body up to him.
While she may not have taken a breath, her heart was racing. Her blood rushed through the arteries in her thighs, echoing in his ears in a siren song, calling him to touch her, taste her in a way he hadn’t before. This close her smell was stronger than ever, sharp with temptation, and it was only inability to yet that kept him from standing and taking her after all, knowing how wet she would feel, how hot around him if he were to thrust into her now, the way her lips would part and invite him to possess all of her.
But he could not and must not. The most he could indulge was to repay the attention she had given him already and try the temptation he had thought of each night since feeling her mouth on him. She was still watching him as he leaned to her.
Her silence broke in a gasp when he licked along the folds of skin between her legs. He’d never… But she must have realized, managing to tell him, “Again. Please.” And so he did, dipping his tongue inside her then, wanting to know her as completely as he could. Strong, appealing, he wanted more of her taste and kept going, glad of her responsiveness, the way she made little moans and cries as he teased the sensitive flesh. A few more times, the muscles of her leg flexing against his shoulder and back with each pass, and she shuddered against him when once at the height of a stroke he dragged harder against her clit. Intrigued, he repeated the motion, this time hearing her head bump against the wall behind her.
“Here?” he asked, perhaps unnecessarily, definitely deliberately close, teasing even as he asked with the vibration and air of speech, with the abrasion of his goatee against her, and was rewarded with a moan that may have been a yes. Her eyes closed at last. Pleased at the reaction, he concentrated on those overexcited nerves.
One heartbeat, two, faster than ever, and she was moving with his mouth, pleased and tortured noises escaping that he didn’t think she was even aware of making. He could feel the tension winding tighter under the hand he had holding her leg. Impulsively he brought his other hand up, sliding fingers into her to be immediately soaked with her need, surprising another gasp from her.
Soon she was rippling around him, against him, her whole body arching now to crush to his mouth as her orgasm overcame her. He held her, supported her as she had him, sent more waves over her with his touch until at last she went limp. He eased her leg back down, backed away to give her some relief, but kept his hands at her hips for support. She came down the wall anyway, slowly; he didn’t even try to deny the flush of conceit at the way her knees seemed weak after his efforts, or the sheen of perspiration over her body. The towel was still on the floor where they’d dropped it and she sank onto it. Neither of them said anything for a minute, Tyr wanting to let her tame her breathing and assuming that was why she didn’t speak.
At last she offered, quietly, “I didn’t expect that.” He made a half-hearted shrug, not sure if that was criticism until she added, “I’m glad you decided to come by.”
“Likewise.” Especially when he licked his lips and tasted her still. The idea of making her respond like that again…
Beka held out her hand. “Help me up and we can go get clean?” And they did need to, with how close they’d been when he’d come. He took her hand and stood, pulling her to her feet, and she led the way to the bathroom.
They were both quiet as they showered together. Words seemed unnecessary, though they touched more than was strictly warranted by the size of the shower stall, fingers pressed to an arm or stroking down a back. He wasn’t doing it to arouse her again, but the contact felt right. He chose not to examine that more in the moment.
At last they were clean and mostly dry, though his braids still dripped down his back, and he dressed slowly. She’d pulled on a robe again, her own this time, and too soon they stood at the door to her quarters. He knew he had to leave before someone came looking for one of them or the fragile peace of the day was disrupted by a new crisis, but he was reluctant to go despite survivalist reasons for finishing his aborted workout. The urge to take her back to bed, to linger even with the knowledge that they would not create a child… “I would suggest,” he said, trying not to give in to the impulse to untie the sash of her robe, “that we try not to wait this long again.”
She smiled, almost shyly. “Yeah, I can agree with that. It’s getting the known worlds to give us a chance that’s a problem.”
“It’s unfortunate that we can’t ask the good captain to work his will on that rather than lunatic charges into danger.”
“I wanna see you ask him to prioritize giving us time alone.” She outright grinned now. “Go on, get back to getting strong enough to save our butts single-handedly and maybe you can arrange it.”
Tyr smiled and leaned to kiss her. This time wasn’t needy but warm, almost affectionate, something that took him by surprise. It wouldn’t be wise to encourage the attachment, but he wasn’t averse to something that might encourage her to save his life later if necessary. He was looking forward to giving her more reasons as soon as possible. “I’ll do my best,” he murmured against her lips.

“Okay,” Beka said as they glided into normal space, “that was our last jump, so about six hours normal space haul to that rock Dylan’s so excited about.”
“‘That rock’? One would think you lacked enthusiasm for our newest potential member of the Commonwealth.” Tyr even managed to sound semi-sincere.
“Lacking enthusiasm is an understatement. I can think of sooo many places I’d rather be.” She tapped at the controls to start setting the alerts. “Especially because he said their claim to fame was being staunch defenders of law and order three hundred years ago, so I’m betting it’ll either be total anarchy or they’ll be so into law and order we’ll be burned at the stake or drawn and quartered or something for bearing messages of mere peace and goodwill.”
“Perhaps hanged from the neck until dead?”
“Do they even have necks on this planet?” Beka unstrapped herself, looking back to see the flickers of amusement. Once she’d confirmed they were headed in the right direction with nothing else ahead, she stood and said, “Besides, when it comes to lacking enthusiasm, you can’t pretend you wanted to go on this trip. I was there when Dylan told you that you were coming, too.”
Tyr shrugged. “There was one aspect I wasn’t going to argue with.” From where he sat he could see her very well, standing in the cockpit, and damn if he wasn’t taking a thorough inventory of all he could see.
“Is it the speeches?” she asked, fighting to keep a straight face. “I know you’re a sucker for speeches.”
He didn’t even bother responding to that one. He swung out of his seat and around the console, ambling down the ship and away. She wondered for a second if it was the teasing, if he’d taken some weird offense to it. Did Nietzscheans tease each other? Or did they just mess with each other’s heads, like Harper had mentioned Tyr doing to him at least once? But he’d lived outside of a Nietzschean pride for years, he had to know how Humans interacted.
She really hoped she hadn’t messed up somehow or that he wasn’t more sensitive than she thought. She still had to spent the next three days with the man for this trip, and while she still hadn’t quite figured out getting a good read on him he’d seemed okay a few days ago when she’d given him that gentle ribbing in the gym.
Or maybe he went to change the subject or get her to follow him. Who knew?
When she went back though the ship, curious and figuring she’d better resolve it no matter his reason for walking away, it was a relief to find that he hadn’t just secreted himself away somewhere. Instead he was in the galley, leaning against the bar and apparently bored. He looked to her when she came in. “So,” she said, “not the speeches?”
“No.” That got her another flash of amusement, at least. So he probably wasn’t all that annoyed, then; luring her back and in? They were going to have to have a talk about being upfront and honest this trip, because she hated not knowing what was going on at any time, and that went more so for someone she was sleeping with. Sort of, anyway.
“Is it the mayhem, then? The potential to, I don’t know, crack some skulls to some old instrumental music, maybe?”
This time it was an actual smile. “No.”
She sidled closer. She was pretty sure she was outside of his reach, but not going to bet on it. “So it’s not the speeches or the mayhem. Is it the talking to people who are probably going to try to kill us and getting them to listen?” Another few centimeters and she was definitely in his reach now, but he hadn’t made a move yet. “It can’t possibly be the ride in the Maru, can it?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
She yelped when he grabbed her even though she’d been expecting it. Once he’d pulled her close and trapped her in his arms, he murmured, “The Maru’s captain.”
“What about her?” she managed, suddenly breathless.
“Three days with her.” His lips grazed her neck. “With just us aboard. No one else to see or comment or interrupt.”
“Except our job.” Frankly right at that second she’d have been happy to settle into orbit for three days and ignore the job part, but her brain could overrule her hormones long enough to argue against it, barely. “Of course we could be—” she moaned at him moving to her shoulder, “could be lucky enough that they’ll just tell us to go away and we can spend the three days taking the long way back.”
“We can only hope.”
Then he was kissing her. Maybe it was how new this all was, but even a simple kiss would have had her whole body warming, and this was hardly a simple kiss. The one he’d given her as they boarded, maybe, a brief brush of his mouth on hers that had caught her by surprise, but not this one. Invading, conquering, rendering her weak at the knees, but not simple. By the time he relinquished her lips she was clinging to his shoulders as much to keep herself upright as to be close.
She really, really hoped the planet just told them to go away.
“Six hours,” she said. “We have six hours in basically empty space. I’ve set all the alarms I’ve got. Even if they don’t tell us to go away, we’ve got some time.” She wasn’t sure, when she looked up at him, if that was a request for slow and steady or as much as she could stand. They might have six hours theoretically, but who knew when they’d be interrupted, with empty space never quite as empty as promised? It never was on the Andromeda, after all, or else it wouldn’t have been a week since they were last together. She’d never thought getting a spare hour or two would be so tricky before she tried to do just that.
They’d barely begun to explore this, the last couple of weeks, and when Dylan told her that he wanted her to take Tyr for backup on this long-shot trip, so soon after her abduction, it had been difficult not to look too gleeful. The trip itself she wasn’t too excited about, but the company? Oh yes. Especially when, in the days since he’d left door, there’d been almost enough time. Enough time to so-casually brush against each other in Command, enough time to whisper a promise in the corridors, enough time to watch lasciviously in the gym, but never enough time to follow through. They had been interrupted by Harper, by Dylan, by Rommie and Rev; the encounter they’d arranged through a passed flexi had been preempted by an emergency. She’d been getting thoroughly frustrated by the time Dylan had made his request, and judging by the hunger in Tyr’s kiss he was, too. Even with it just being a week, it still felt too long. She wasn’t sure how much of that was a result of how long it had been in general and how much was because he was just that appealing.
Either way she felt the rush at the next kiss and pressed against his body in silent incitement. Interrupted they may be, but she was going to take advantage of what she could before they were. He seemed inclined to as well, his hands immobile on her arms and his tongue slipping to hers. It was overwhelming suddenly, his taste and smell, the flex of his shoulders under her hands, but she still wanted more. She bit his lip when she could and was rewarded with a pained groan that was nonetheless not from pain, and she took that as encouragement, pulling back just enough to slide her hands under the chain mail. Divining what she was doing, he let go of her to tug it off before catching her lips again and leaving her hands free to explore.
She did. Letting her fingers roam, she mapped the muscles of his chest and stomach and arms and back, learning as much as she could by touch alone. Last time had been so rushed, and she hadn’t lingered much for the other times either. She may have been worried now about how much time they had, but she wanted to take advantage of the time she thought they had. He didn’t dissuade her, apparently enjoying being touched as much as she was enjoying the touching, even breaking the kiss as she drew invisible lines over his flawless skin. If anything he was preening at her attention.
Eventually her hands came to rest at his waistband, the feel of the leather disappointing in comparison. She wanted that barrier gone, to keep exploring, and she worked the button loose quickly. “You—” he started, but she cut him off with another quick kiss as she finished unfastening by feel. She broke away again to push the leather back over his hips and continue exploring. She stroked his cock and enjoyed the pulse under her hand as he hardened further, the weight of the sac underneath in her palm and the way his skin twitched under her nails when she dragged them over the upper curve of his ass and the tops of his thighs. She wondered what it was that he seemed to enjoy the mild pain so much, but she wasn’t going to argue with the results. He may have been, though, stopping her as her hands wandered back to his erection. “Not yet.”
She resented the instruction, but was somewhat appeased by his own explorations as he slid his hands under the thin shirt and pushed it up. When he reached the strap of her bra he undid the catch just as smoothly, easing it up with the shirt to expose her breasts, and she lifted her arms to let him get them both off at once. Before they’d even hit the floor his fingers were back at her breasts, cupping and stroking and rolling her nipples, and that was making her weak in the knees before he bent down just enough to suck at her neck. One stumbling step backwards and the bar was pressing a hard— if cold— line across her lower back; she appreciated the support despite a small voice of amusement and concern in the back of her mind noting that he really seemed to like having her cornered and at his mercy. She really didn’t care why once he took advantage of the forced arch of her back to descend on her breast with his mouth.
When he moved away again she shivered at the transition from the wet warmth to the cool air of the Maru pebbling her nipple, but just as much from anticipation of him repeating the gesture on the other side. Instead he kissed her, the heat of his body soothing the bite of the cold air on her wet and sensitive skin when he leaned against her. Hotter yet, his cock was trapped against her abdomen, smooth and hard and tempting. She wanted it.
When he relinquished her lips, started to move down again, she pushed him back a little. Her intent was lavish more attention on him until he begged for release or mercy or both, but he must have interpreted it differently. He stepped back more and gestured her to the bunkroom, a question in the tilt of his eyebrow.
It wasn’t what she’d planned, but she’d take it. Either the bunk would be kinder to her knees or he had ideas of his own, and so far his ideas on sex had been worth exploring. So she led the way, stopping to hold onto the frame of the archway long enough to loosen her boots and toeing them off once she was on the other side and unfastening her own pants. She bent over, unthinking, to slide them off over her feet and was entertained by a solid crash on the deckplates behind her, like Tyr had missed his own step over the ledge. Clothes off, she pulled back the covers and sank down to sit on the bunk.
Whether she was right about the noise or not, when she looked back at Tyr he had followed her and was stepping out of his clothes, with no obvious damage to either him or her ship. It was really a shame that the bunkroom was always so dim, as she couldn’t really indulge in watching him, but she still enjoyed what she could see as he came closer. They really had to figure out both time and lighting at some point…
Even as she thought that she ran out of chances to watch. When he leaned down she expected him to kiss her or say something and was instead surprised beyond words to have him crowd her, bear her down to the mattress until she was on her back, and it was both incredibly alarming and unbelievably arousing to have him silently pin her with his body, leg between hers and arms stretched to the bar above her pillow, and only then kiss her again. For a moment the sheer strength and weight of him, the ability to dominate her without effort made her nervous, because what else could he do to her alone here? She’d left her forcelance with her pants, her gun in the weapons locker, and they might as well be back on the Andromeda right now with how he was preventing her from moving.
She got her hands between them and pushed at his chest again— not hard, but enough that he could feel it— and was appeased when he immediately raised up enough that he could look her in the eyes. “Beka?”
“Just…” She licked her lips, still a little nervous. “Just wondering if you’ve got a plan here and if you’re going to let me in on it.”
A flash of a smile. “Perhaps.”
He bent to kiss her again and this time she let him without protest, relaxing some and sinking into the feeling, a little reassured by how quickly he’d responded to the hint of concern. He could still just be lulling her into a false sense of security, without Rommie on the other side of the airlock, but he had to know that Harper at least would hunt him down if anything happened to her.
She let her hands start to roam again. Lower, this time, hips and ass and thighs while he kissed her, appreciating all that time he spent in the gym. It might not have been solely for her appreciation, but she was far from complaining about any of the results, whether it was survival or undeniable physical appeal. Seeing that perfection so close and so available, frustrated by the week’s interruptions, she was not inclined to go slow, despite how much time they were supposed to have.
Wanting to encourage him and, she was willing to admit to herself, wanting to get her hands on him again, she let her hands wander back to his erection. Barely even touching him got her a stifled groan against her lips and she would have grinned if she weren’t otherwise occupied. If she were hungry, he sounded like he was starving; did Nietzscheans go in for self-gratification? Not wanting to give him a chance to tell her to wait again, she got a better grip and started stroking him, quick and firm and trying to drive him absolutely insane.
It worked. The groan this time wasn’t stifled, coming as he pulled his mouth away from hers, dropped his forehead to the pillow by her hair. She actually did grin and kept going, enjoying the response to her touch, the way he thrust into her hand with every stroke, like he couldn’t get enough already. She actually really enjoyed that part, the thigh wedged between her legs pressing against her mound with every thrust and starting to drive her insane, too, especially when she realized she had enough leverage to rock up to meet him, too. It felt so good, maybe not enough to make her come before he did, but the rub and release of his hard muscles exactly what she needed after a week of any relief being from her own hands, after a week with the repeated tease of almost having more.
That pressure built quickly, faster than she’d thought, and she was achingly close when Tyr groaned again by her ear. He tensed, his leg against the sensitive nerves and making them throb with the sudden force, but it wasn’t quite enough for her to follow him over the edge seconds later no matter how much she wanted to. Instead she ground against him desperately as he shuddered and jerked above her, until her stomach was wet and he had turned his head to press what might have been a kiss into her hair.
She thought she made a noise at that point, arching up to try to appease the clawing need that was taking over her every breath. He moved then, one hand on hers, easing her fingers away from him and the back of her hand to her pillow, his fingers meshed with hers and giving her something to brace against. His mouth was against her ear, spilling words she couldn’t catch but the vibration making her shiver. He was leaning into her, pushing her pelvis into him more, encouraging her to take what she wanted; she did, driving against him until she was limp and panting and he was kissing her neck gently, even sweetly if she could call it that. When she turned to see him he kissed her lips instead.
He still hadn’t let go of her hand after it ended. Rather than release her, he brought his other hand to stroke her cheek. Her first response was to be nervous, not anticipating much in the way of tenderness and wondering if he was actually being affectionate or about to reach for her throat, but his only movement toward her neck was to skate down the vein and brush over the upper curve of her breast. “Six hours?”
“Probably closer to five now.”
“That’s enough.”
“For?” But he answered by continuing the caress down to her hip. She wasn’t inclined to disagree, but she had to say something first. “We need to talk about you not asking questions when they’re asked.”
“Why?” He sounded like he was trying to be oh-so-innocent, but it would have worked better if he wasn’t slipping his fingers to the inside of her thigh as he asked. Also if she didn’t know he was a Nietzschean mercenary.
“Because I…” She had to focus. “I like knowing what’s going on, not— oh— not surprises. Let me in on the plans and scheming? And… mm…”
“And?” he prompted, the bastard, like he wasn’t doing that while she was trying to be serious.
“And tell me… if you don’t…” A quick breath while he let her. “If you want to me do or not do something? Or if something’s going on? I—” He kissed her, possibly trying to distract her, but this was important. “I want honesty if we’re doing this,” she blurted once she was able to again.
He actually seemed serious for a moment. “I can understand that.”
And that was… fairly far from any kind of promise to actually be honest, but at least he couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned if she needed to shoot him over something later. “Good. Oh…”

Tyr checked the readout. “Venting complete. At this rate we should have until the morning before venting again.” He looked over to the other person at the pilot’s station when he didn’t get a response. “Beka?”
“Hm?”
He was amused at her distraction. She’d concentrated through the venting procedure, at least, and he had no doubt that the first sign of trouble she would be alert and ready for anything, but her attention had immediately lapsed again. “Still worrying about the Maru?”
“Yeah… I know, I know, Harper’s along for the ride, it’ll be fine.” She held up her hands defensively.
“It should be.” He leaned back to assess her, still entertained. He’d seen first-time mothers of newborns fret less about their children than Beka did about one clapped-out cargo ship. “There must be something you can do to take your mind off of it.”
She turned her head to see him and he let a glimmer of his amusement show. She raised an eyebrow. “Should I assume you have ideas?”
Tyr shrugged. “I may have a few suggestions.”
“Why, Tyr, you wouldn’t be thinking of anything inappropriate with everyone else off the ship, would you?” She looked up at him, crossed her arms and leaned against the opposite railing. “Because with it being just us we are effectively the Commonwealth representatives and need to act like it.”
“Far be it from me to suggest anything inappropriate. Unless, of course, you have poor opinions of my reading material, which was what I was going to invite you to borrow if you’re in need of diversion.”
“That’s disappointing.” She grinned. “I have very high opinions of your reading material. I could have done with some inappropriate reading material.”
He grinned back. “You’re welcome to come by and search for some.” Leaving her at the station, he stepped down and set a quick pace up the ramp out of Command.
He wasn’t surprised to hear her hurrying behind him, and when he looked back she shrugged. “Hey, I’m bored.” He sincerely doubted that, at least enough to account for her haste, but slowed down enough for her to catch up. “Bored enough that I’m willing to brave your reading material anyway, which is what, all philosophy?”
“Not all. There are a few epics.” She groaned dramatically and he laughed. “I’m sure you can find something… suitably inappropriate… once we get there.”
“Oh, I hope so.” And he looked over to catch her eyeing him as they walked.
The conversation continued in that vein for the rest of the walk, edging back and forth over the line of flirting. He enjoyed it, the promise in the way she looked at him if not in her words, careful not to betray themselves beyond a doubt to the ship. At least with no one else aboard there was no chance of someone else interrupting. Again.
He called for privacy mode as soon as they were in his quarters. Once the ship had acknowledged his request, he turned to Beka, who had a wicked look on her face. He was hard-pressed himself to seem serious. “Have you decided which books you’d rather borrow?”
“Actually I decided to go for the inappropriate behavior after all.”
He was less than surprised, at either the statement or her immediate next action being to step forward so she could reach up to him, pull him down to meet her lips. Any surprise was at how gentle the kiss actually was, a request rather than a demand. Thus far she had been more inclined to command than to coax in their encounters, neither shocking nor unpleasant, but making this new approach unexpected. Not unwelcome, though. He responded in kind, not pressing for more immediately despite the temptation. The slower pace was an appealing change from their usual urgent need, and he tugged her hips just a little bit closer. She made a noise that sounded amused, but didn’t dissuade him, opening her mouth in reward to let him in instead.
He was enjoying it, the feel of her curves under his fingers as much as her teeth biting lightly at his lower lip before returning to the soft, slow kisses. Much as he liked this unhurried seduction, he wanted more, and started to slide his fingers under the hem of the simple tank top she wore.
“Mm,” she managed against his lips, then pulled back, catching his hands in hers and pulling them away as well. “You first.” He almost protested, seeing the mischief still in her smile, but chose to wait. He was hardly completely vulnerable even without his clothes, after all.
Cautious nonetheless, he stepped back to give himself room. He was not above taking advantage of both that space and her request to distract her from whatever she had planned if it were detrimental, and if it weren’t? She was always blatantly appreciative of his body, even if it weren’t verbally, and he wasn’t going to deny either of them that impulse; he worked partly— primarily?— for female appreciation, after all, and while she wasn’t Nietzschean she was still female. So he swung his hair back over his shoulder and undressed.
He had Beka’s full attention as he shed the chain mail, her eyes drifting down his torso once he’d tossed it on the chair. Wanting to tease, he let his hand linger at the waistband of his pants, thinking for a moment that it was a shame he hadn’t worn a weapons belt that morning, for a further layer to draw out her wait. But he bypassed the leather, removed his boots instead, and was entertained by the faint frustration on her face when he straightened back up from the diversion. At last he slipped the button through, slid the pants down slowly, and it was as much a relief to see her approval as it was to be free of the confines of his clothing, the building tension starting to affect him.
She stepped forward to meet him, kissing him briefly once everything was on the chair, but she pushed him back when he tried to take more. “Go lie down.” While he did, it was not without some degree of wariness despite how increasingly comfortable he was becoming with her presence; they were the only two aboard the ship other than the AI, after all, and with privacy enabled…
But once he was stretched out on the bed, watching her carefully and ready to move, all she did was drop her own boots by the door, two quick thuds, and come close to the bed. She was, intentionally or accidentally, just out of easy reach. Slowly, more teasingly than his efforts had been, she stripped her clothes off item by item, prolonging the anticipation with every garment. Her underwear was flimsier than he’d seen her wear yet, something that made him wonder to what extent today’s encounter was engineered, but he let that thought go as she dropped it onto the pile. She was grinning again, not the least of which reason probably being whatever she had in mind. Some of it may have been the way he had watched her, intent on every piece of revealed flesh, and his obvious interest. Despite that, he was pleased by her enthusiasm. “Since you seem to have something definite in mind, perhaps you could enlighten me?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She bit her lip for a second, briefly seeming uncertain despite the brazen statement. Maybe remembering her comments to him recently about not concealing his plans? Or simple nervousness? Whatever the reason, it passed. She still skirted his range of reach as she moved to the bed, crawling on it and straddling his legs. “Maybe I should just show you.”
She did. The feeling of her mouth on his erection was indescribable, the heat surrounding him as she working her way down centimeter by centimeter until she couldn’t go any further, his world narrowing down to her lips and tongue, her fingers at the base of him keeping him from thrusting up like he so desperately wanted to. And when she started to slide back up…
Tyr grabbed for the headboard, knowing that he could not pull her up his body, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to resist if his hands were free, and gripped the metal until it hurt. That became a focal point, something to hold onto in all senses as she did things he hadn’t experienced before her and didn’t think he’d ever adjust to. It was intense. And she prolonged it, far beyond what he thought he would be able to stand, backing off whenever his breath came short to stroke him slowly, loosely, bringing him back down from the edge before renewing her efforts with his mouth.
At last she didn’t ease away, didn’t give him the space to relax, and he was winding tighter and tighter, past the point of articulating what she was doing to him. He didn’t think he could let go even if he wanted to, all of that tension in his fingers, too. Then he was past the point of thinking as well as speaking, only able to feel as that tension snapped and he was convulsing fiercely and uncontrollably under her touch.
She kept going until it was almost painful before she released him, letting him slide from between her lips, and she sat up and waited for him to work his fingers loose again, to let his gasps even out. “You are,” he managed at last, chest still heaving, “very good at that.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Her smirk didn’t last long, mostly because he’d recovered just enough to catch her at her ribs and haul her up his body for a kiss, the cry of surprise not withstanding. She relaxed into it immediately. He could taste himself in her mouth, strange to him but an intense reminder of what she’d just done, and he found himself chasing it. Taking it as ardor she kissed him back just as intently, her own arousal evident where her center was pressed against his abdomen. If he weren’t constrained by physical limits…
But he was, and so slid one hand down to rub against her clit and make her moan against his mouth. She broke the kiss, rocking forward against his thumb, and he wanted. “Come up,” he told her, more of a growl than anything else, and started to work his fingers under her thighs, lifting and pushing until she got the idea of what he wanted her to do. It didn’t take long, nor was she reluctant to comply, and he was glad of that. Her taste and the way she reacted were potently arousing to the point of addiction, it seemed.
She settled quickly above him but not quickly enough, and he heard her hands slap against the wall above the headboard for balance when he dug his fingers into the flesh of her ass and pulled her to him. Her smell was overwhelming this close and he couldn’t wait, plunging his tongue into her and making her moan again, this time a long quavering noise that pitched up when he dragged over her clit. He worked to get more of that response from her, and while that noise wasn’t repeated she made more gasping cries as he licked and sucked, dipping into her to get to writhe against him, to get more of her inimitable flavor.
He was paying attention to the instant response, to the way she twisted with every change, that her orgasm surprised him when it hit, her whole body shuddering so that for a heartbeat he thought she’d fall, but he gripped her tighter and kept going to wring out all the ripples of pleasure he could from her, for her. At last she relaxed, the tremors passing, and he paused to let her take a gulp of air.
And no sooner had she done so than he started again.
The second time was faster, her body still sensitive from the first, and she said and did nothing to deter him when he kept going after that. Her cries were closer to breathy whimpers and her legs were shaking before she climaxed a third time, his efforts sending her once more pulsing against his tongue. He would have continued even then, wanting to see what more he could do, but this time she whispered, “Enough,” as she came down from the high. Quiet, strained, but he heard and listened, lifting her up and away, her own ability to do so apparently limited as she collapsed next to him immediately. “Okay,” she panted after he stroked a hand over her calf in silent inquiry, what he could reach easily from where they both lay. “A minute…”
He waited, not letting go. She was calming, her heart slowing to her normal levels, but her smell was still intoxicating. Finally she said, closer to her own voice, “As far as being good at that? You, too.”
The smile was small and to himself, and he tightened his fingers briefly on her leg in acknowledgment. After another moment of silence, he asked, “Are you recovered?”
Beka laughed a little. “Yeah, mostly.” She bumped his hip with her knee. “And you are, too?”
He shrugged, realizing a beat later that she probably couldn’t see the gesture, with her head by his feet. “Your reaction was… appealing.”
“So it’s my fault?” Light, teasing.
“Only if you want to apologize.”
She laughed again, taking it as intended. “Maybe you should apologize then, you caused it.”
“I could.”
“But you’re not going to, are you?” And then her hand was on his leg, and sliding as she sat up again. “And neither am I. So maybe we should just go for mutual appreciation instead?”
And that, as she leaned over to kiss him again, was an outcome he was satisfied with.
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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