Serendipity

BY : AndromedaValentine
Category: 1 through F > Andromeda
Dragon prints: 3349
Disclaimer: I do not own Andromeda, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Title: Serendipity

Author:
Margaret Brown, aka Andromeda Valentine

Fandom:
Andromeda

Pairing:
Rommie/Dylan

Rating:
NC-17 (*not* a PWP, though)

Status:
New; Complete

Archive:
Yes to list archives, all others please ask first.

Feedback:
By all means - I'm not doing this *just* for my mental health. ::grin::

E-mail address for feedback:
andromeda_valentine@hotmail.com

Series/Sequel:
None, as yet

Other Websites:
Crimson Redd

Disclaimers: As usual, not mine in any way, shape, or form...


Summary: Rommie comforts Dylan after the events of 'Home Fires,' with unexpected results. Rommie's POV.



Notes:
I suppose you could call this one a 'Hurt/Comfort,' except with different parties doing the hurting and the comforting. I probably don't need to add that, though there are no direct spoilers, having seen 'Home Fires' will make this one a lot easier to understand.

And just so you know, I have Rommie wearing her lovely new Season Two uniform - the one that looks more like a designer suit than anything else.



Warnings:
None except the rating. <lol>

********************



Serendipity (serendipity)

-the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for



 



"They say that good things come to those who wait,

and I've waited for so long.

It's now or never and the hour's late.

I want this moment, right or wrong..."

-Lori Yates, 'Black Rose'



********************

I'm sitting in my quarters, letting my thoughts drift at random, or as close to random as my thoughts can ever be, when she appears. I barely even look up at the familiar sound of her holographic form materializing.

"He's been in there for over three hours now. You should talk to him. This isn't healthy."

I just close my eyes, fighting back tears I'm too angry and proud to let flow. His rejection of me - or rather, my attempts to help him - still stings, badly, especially since this is this second time he's done this to me and not realized or admitted to it. There's a human expression, something about reopening old wounds...

"I *tried* to talk to him. He doesn't want me. All he wants is his precious Sara..." The amount of venom behind my words catches me off guard a little, and a tear slips down my cheek before I can reign in the flash of emotion. I swipe at it almost angrily, daring her to say something about it.

For once, she doesn't say anything caustic, and actually manages to look a little sympathetic. "I know - I saw. But he's hurting - you *know* that."

Yes, I do know that, though I'm not going to admit it to her. Her kindness somehow stings more than her sarcasm would... "Let Beka or Rev deal with it. I'm just a warship - what do I know about psychology?"

What I don't want to admit is that I just don't know *how* to help, or I would. Every moment he hurts, *I* hurt.

She's starting to lose patience with me now. "Fine, don't help him. Forget all the times he's helped you..."

That one cuts deep, and I throw a pillow at her to chase her away. "Leave me alone!"

Her hologram shimmers, breaking up and then reforming as the pillow passes through her. She turns and watches it crash into the shelves behind her, evidently shattering something glass, before she gives me a disgusted look and disappears.

I walk over to see what broke, and see that the pillow's knocked one of my pictures off the shelf, breaking the glass in the frame. Brushing the glass away gingerly, I realize it's a picture of Dylan and me, taken by Trance during one of our shore leaves.

Being who and what I am, every detail of the moment the picture was taken comes back to me unbidden. A nightclub on Salieri Drift, not long after I lost Gabriel... I hadn't wanted to go, but Dylan insisted and even made Beka and Trance take me shopping for a new outfit.

A slight smile crosses my face as I remember how much he doted on me that night, teasing me and joking with me to make me laugh, even dancing with me a little. The club had gotten so crowded as the evening went on that I'd ended up having to sit in his lap, and I don't think I've ever felt quite as happy and secure as I did sitting there with his arms around me, laughing with the others.

The memory stings a little, given the circumstances, but it hits home to me suddenly that I can't just leave Dylan to grieve in solitude, no matter how much I may want to.

I find him on the Obs. Deck - where else? - sitting on a bench and staring out the window. There's a bottle of whiskey at his feet, though, to my relief, it seems largely untouched. Maybe he's doing a little better, then...


>He >He looks up as I approach, his face reflected back to me in the window before him, and the look in his eyes tells me that all he's done is manage to hide his pain a bit better. I half expect him to say something to drive me away, but he stays oddly silent, merely watching as I walk around to stand by him.

I'm relieved to note that the half-wild look in his eyes is gone, and he's, well, *human* again. Maybe the pain has begun to dull enough that I can reach him now...

"I meant what I said earlier, Dylan." I offer, trying to get him talking. "Sara really was an exceptional woman - she would have to have been, for you to love her so much..."

He just looks at me for a long moment. "I've made an ass out of myself, haven't I?"

I shrug. "You've been understandably upset, Dylan. I'm sure everyone realizes that. I know *I* do..."

I reach out for his hand, sensing that he'll hear me now if I try to talk to him. "Just don't push me away again, please. It... hurts when you do that."

That last statement comes out plaintively, like a wounded child, and I curse myself inwardly for my awkwardness. No wonder I never seem to get through to him...

Strangely, he takes my hand and uses it to pull me into his lap. The proximity is... disconcerting, to say the least - we very rarely touch this way, for many reasons - and I just sit there stiffly for a moment or two, not knowing how to react or what to expect.

But it seems he's content to merely sit there in silence with his arms around me, and I decide that he just wants the closeness of a familiar presence. I myself find something soothing in the contact and let my thoughts drift a little to the view out the window.

I almost miss the first drop of moisture on my neck, and the second. It confuses me for a moment, but then I feel Dylan trembling slightly and find myself more astonished than confused as I realize he's crying... Crying for Sara, for Rhade too, I imagine, and for everything we've lost and can't regain...

Everything just seems to freeze in place suddenly as I feel his lips against the nape of my neck. I can't decide how to respond, as it seems completely at odds with Dylan's current emotional state. But then he continues planting kisses on my neck, and my body determines its own response, each kiss sending a jolt right through me.

He slides his hands up to cup my breasts, and I have to bite back a gasp of surprise at my body's immediate response to the contact, even through the fabric of my uniform. I never knew a simple touch could feel like that...

Then he slips a hand inside my uniform top, and I can't help crying out a little as his warm fingers brush across a hardening nipple, my back arching slightly at the sudden flare of pleasure that shoots straight down to between my legs.

Dylan freezes then, pulling his hand away, and I can see the guilt in his face in his reflection in the window. "Christ, Rommie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"It's alright, Dylan." My voice sounds strange, it's difficult to speak, and my body is all but screaming with frustration at the sudden withdrawal of Dylan's touch. "But I should probably still - "

"Stay with me." Dylan's voice is very quiet, and I wouldn't even believe he'd said the words if I weren't right there. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

I hesitate, caught between my almost unthinking desire to be there for Dylan, in whatever way he needs me, and the sudden flare of pride that refuses to let me be just the nearest woman willing to share Dylan's bed for the night. I won't be used, even by him...

Dylan wraps his arms tighter around me, as if sensing my hesitation, and I get the odd impression of someone holding onto a lifeline.

Finally, I'm able to speak again. "Why me, Dylan?" I don't want to ask it, but I need to know that it's really *me* he wants before I answer.

"Because you were there with me. Because you're the only one who understands. And because..." He trails off suddenly, and there's a long pause before he continues. "Because you care about me, Rommie, and I need to know that someone still does..."

God... It's so easy to forget that he must be lonely too, and the thought definitely doesn't help me keep a clear head. Neither does the fact that I've secretly fantasized more than once about a moment just like this - though none of those fantasies were ever made bittersweet like this by my doubt of Dylan's intentions...

My mind wanders a little at the memory of those fantasies and the feelings they invoke, and it takes me a moment to realize that those feelings are actually grounded in reality.

Nearly groaning in frustration, I try and push Dylan's hands away from me, at least long enough to think clearly. "Dylan, stopneedneed to think about this."

His hands still immediately, but he refuses to let me push them away. "If this is about protocol, Rommie-

I shake my head, still not quite believing that Im actually going to say whats on my mind. It isnt about that, Dylan. Its just - I need to know it's me you want, even if its only for tonight.

God - Beka would call me a fool if she could see this. She wouldn't be looking for excuses to say no if it were her here right now...

"Rommie, look at me." Dylan's voice breaks into my thoughts - funny how he always seems to know just when to do that...

It's awkward, but I get myself turned around to face him. I suppose I could just stand up and talk to him, but somehow neither of us is apparently very willing to let go of this close contact.

"Dylan, what-" That's when he pulls me in for a kiss, and every nerve in my body reacts to it. I've been kissed before, but, God, not like this...

We break apart after a long moment, and I just stare at Dylan in a kind of daze.

He smiles slightly at that before running a hand down the side of my face. "It *is* you I want, Rommie - believe that."

With that, he kisses me again, but softly this time, and slowly. I jump a little as his tongue brushes mine - the contact sends an unexpected jolt through me - but after a moment I find myself exploring his mouth justeageeagerly as he's exploring mine.

We pull apart as his hands reach up to cup my breasts, and I feel my back arch slightly at the flare of pleasure that shoots through me.

Dylan starts planting kisses on my jaw and neck, and his hands work to unbutton my uniform top as his kisses start trailing down my collarbone. A small part of me hesitates then as he reaches behind me to unfasten my bra, but is quickly silenced by the flood of new sensations washing over me when Dylan continues downward to draw a nipple into his mouth.

I actually gasp out loud when he flicks his tongue across my hardening nipple, arching into the contact as he also brings a hand up to cup my other breast. I also can't help but moan a little when he switches breasts as the sensation of his hands and lips on me adds to the aching warmth already building between my legs.

After a moment, he starts trailing kisses back upward along my chest and neck until he finally captures my mouth again.

He pulls away afterward to look at me a moment before speaking in a low quiet voice. "Are you sure you want this, Rommie? We don't have to..."

I shake my head. "No, Dylan, I want to." My reply trails off into a gasp as he takes me at my word and lets his hands start roaming all over my bare torso. It isn't the first time I've felt like a doll in someone's hands, but this is the first time that has also equated to feeling cherished, loved - needed...

His hands settle on my hips, and my eyes fly wide open in surprise as he moves beneath me, pressing me against his erection. He smiles at me then, a wicked-little-schoolboy grin that makes my heart lurch. "See wyou you do to me?"

He leans in to kiss me again, and I stiffen involuntarily, suddenly nervous, as his hands fumble with the waistband of my pants and the reality of the situation suddenly sets in.

Dylan looks at me with concerned, watchful eyes. "Do you want to stop?"

I shake my head. "No! It's just..." I bow my head slightly in embarrassment, my hair partially hiding my face. "I've never..." God, what a thing to have to admit to now of all times...

He lifts my chin up so I'm looking him in the eyes. "Do you trust me, Rommie?" I just nod - of course I trust him. "Then trust me now."

I nod again, and Dylan leans in for another kiss as his hantarttart roaming again slowly. My nervousness fades under the feel of his hands and mouth, and by the time he reaches again to remove my pants, the only thing I'm feeling is an unfamiliar and intense need to have him inside me.

I'm naked now, but I don't mind - the cool air feels good on my hot skin - and Dylan just looks at me intently a long moment.

"You're beautiful." he whispers, running a hand up my thigh, and the world threatens to explode around me suddenly as that hand reaches between my legs, probing gently.

"Dylan, please, I - " The words spill out of me unbidden as I feel the tension throughout my body start coiling tighter and tighter.

There's a brief pause - a shifting of bodies and cloth as he frees himself from his uniform - and then he lifts me up and I'm sliding down onto him, gasping all the while.

We both shudder a little as we come together, and then sit there motionless for a long moment, lost in sensation.

We start moving together, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through us both until we're shuddering and gasping. Finally, every muscle in my body convulses as the world suddenly goes nova all around me. Dylan convulses beneath me, too, calling out my name.

Silence reigns afterward as we sit there in each others arms, broken only by the soft sounds of the two of us gathering our clothes and dressing. As if by unspoken decision, we walk back to Dylan's quarters, talking softly as we do.

We make love again once we get there, and as Dylan sleeps I find myself staring out the window into space.

I don't know what will happen when he wakes up - I have no idea whether this will all mean anything beyond tonight or not, though I honestly hope it does. It's all so unexpected, though, that it's still hard to sort out.

Nevertheless, there's one thing I've learned from Trance during our short stay so far in this time: never forget to be grateful for that little bit of serendipity that strikes when you least expect it...








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