Passing the Time

BY : Bebe
Category: 1 through F > Andromeda
Dragon prints: 2579
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: Passing the Time, Part 9

Author’s Note: Hi, all. Sorry about missing last week's update! Last Sunday ended up busier than usual. I sincerely hope this chapter is worth the wait! Please check in next week, same time and place, because I intend to have the tenth and FINAL chapter up then! Enjoy!

The lazy swing of the hammock and the warm sunshine on the floorboards of the porch combined with the faint buzzing of early-summer insects to lull him into relaxation. The temptation to set down the holonovel and be eased into sleep was undeniable. It was only the thought that he needed to be alert if Beka were to run into trouble on her walk that kept him awake and pushing gently with his foot to keep the hammock moving. She had sworn that it would be a short walk, not that he was too concerned about potential dangers. They were in a rural area, their nearest neighbors farms and most of them mechanized, so there were few people to see or harm her. Until she returned, then, he would wait with the holonovel.

It was borrowed from Beka, one of her impressive collection and one that she had heartily recommended. In fact— and he frowned at the title of it as he remembered— he was fairly sure that this one had been responsible for the two of them nearly falling out of the hammock a few weeks ago. Beka had come to find him while he had been, then as now, enjoying the good weather on the porch, and her enthusiasm had exceeded the bounds of balance. After they had allowed for that, however… He smiled slightly at the thought of her smooth, hot skin pressed close to his the length of their bodies and the slow movements necessary to prevent an upset. He wondered if, when she returned, she might be convinced to repeat the experience.

In the meantime, the holonovel was hardly unable to divert him. As with so many of them, they had only a thin veneer of a plot, frequently abandoned in favor of more explicit material. He knew that Beka often came to find him after reading some, but he hadn’t realized the extent of it. As it was, that combined with the memory of the last time they had been in the hammock together was doing more than any motion or concern to keep him awake. Still, he was relieved— not entirely for physical reasons— when he saw the blonde hair and lithe form coming down the rocky road. It wasn’t until she came closer that he realized that she was holding something bright red in one hand. He could also see the smile when she caught sight of him on the porch. By the time she was close enough for him to make out what she was carrying she had hidden it behind her back. He set the book down and watched until she was at the foot of the porch steps. “Enjoy your walk?”

She grinned up at him. “Yes, actually. What do you think of the holonovel?”

He glanced down at it for effect, shrugged, then let his own smile creep over his lips. “It’s… an adequate way to spend the afternoon.”

“Glad you liked it. But,” she came up the steps, still carefully holding her hand behind her back, “I think I have something else for you to do.” Now he could smell a sharp, sweet scent, presumably from the red thing or things. “I need you to meet me inside in, oh, about half an hour. Okay?”

“That depends on what you need me for.” He surveyed her body, blatantly looking her up and down, and was mildly surprised when all she did was shift her weight to better display certain areas. If she hadn’t been apparently feeling flirtatious she would have taken offense.

“Something that is far more interesting than the holonovel, I promise.” She leaned down and kissed him, promising just that eventuality as well as if she hadn’t said anything.

He licked his lips, trying not to display precisely how he was feeling. “In that case, I believe I might. Half an hour?”

She nodded, grinned again, then headed for the door, facing him the whole way so he couldn’t see what she had behind her back. She bumped into it hip-first, groping blindly for the door handle to let herself in. He could hear her banging around the kitchen as soon as the door closed behind her, and he hoped that she wouldn’t move all the equipment around too much. Still, he had half an hour until… whatever she had planned for him, and he picked up the holonovel again.

He barely noticed when she stopped moving in the kitchen, her footsteps going away. He was absorbed in the novel. The scenes described were… stimulating, and some of the practices he hadn’t tried. He took note of some of them for future reference, one especially that seemed to tally with something Beka had been hinting at. The half hour flew by, and in no time he was closing the case and swinging his legs off the hammock, reluctant to leave the comfort of it but intrigued by what Beka had promised. He took the holonovel inside and set it on the kitchen table.

She wasn’t in the kitchen. She had been; there was a knife and cutting board at the counter, and an empty container that still had bits of fruit inside. He took a closer look. The bits of fruit were stems from— he sniffed— strawberries, or at least the closest equivalent possible, the sweet scent identifiable now. That would explain the red she’d been carrying, but he still wasn’t sure why she’d been cutting them. He moved away to the door to the rest of the house. She wasn’t in the main room, but the doors to the bathroom and the bedroom stood open, and he followed a hunch to the bedroom.

Tyr knew why she’d been cutting the fruit now. Presumably the rounder, uncut berries would have rolled off or otherwise shifted from the spots of bare skin where she’d placed the slices, and there was a lot of bare skin and quite a few slices to cover it. Beka had stretched along the bed, apparently completely relaxed with her hands behind her head and one knee in the air. The strawberries stood out, jewel-red, against her paleness where they had been placed strategically on her torso. Not taking his eyes away from her, he leaned against the doorframe and considered the appealing sight.

“So,” she finally said, “is this an adequate way to spend the afternoon?”

He waited a long moment before answering her, still studying her reclining body. “I believe so. We’ll have to be careful not to get the juice on the sheets.”

She laughed at that. It was shallow, presumably because any real movement would have dislodged the strawberry slices. Some of them were already precariously balanced, with one on her collarbone and another at her ribs starting to slide even with that slight shift, judging by the pink trail they were leaving. Still staring, he pushed away from the doorframe and started to undress. She watched his every motion from her position on the bed. Finally he dropped the last piece of clothing to the floor, only pausing long enough to retrieve the leather tie from a pocket before stalking toward the foot of the bed, drawing his braids back to secure them at the nape of his neck. He was careful not to jar her as he crawled onto the bed, but moved slowly up until he was on his hands and knees above her, the smell of the sweet strawberries mingling with her own warm arousal. He leaned down to brush his lips over hers, feeling his boneblades shift smoothly to their alert position.

“Where did you get the strawberries?”

“Farm stand down the road.” She grinned. “Got them for a reason, you know.”

“I can tell.” Without another word he reached for the one that was actually sliding off her ribcage, balancing carefully as he picked it up and slipped it in his mouth. There was still a pink stain on her skin where it had been. The next one, at her collarbone, he fed to her, her lips light against his fingertips. He flicked his tongue where it had been, getting the juice this time. She stifled a giggle. “Problem?” he asked, before repeating the motion.

Beka suppressed it this time. “Tickles when you do that.” He looked up at her. “The beard.”

He considered a response but decided against it, instead eating the next strawberry slice right off the upper curve of her breast. She giggled again, but he could also smell her response.

She’d arranged the pieces carefully. There was one right at the dip of her throat, two more at her nipples, a string down her breastbone and abdomen past her navel, a few more along the cradle of her hipbones, and the rest placed sporadically over her breasts and stomach. The one at her shoulder seemed out of place, and he commented after he’d given it to her, teasing it over her lips until she’d glared at him. “I ran out of body,” she told him defensively, and he laughed before kissing her again, more deeply this time.

“In that case,” he said when it ended, “I should remove some of them.”

“And if we run out of strawberries?”

He shrugged. “We can always get more.” He prevented further discussion with the simple expedient of licking up a slice over her nipple and the skin beneath in the process.

One by one the strawberries disappeared. Some Tyr took, others he gave to Beka; one disappeared into the sheets, having gone flying when Beka convulsed in laughter from his tongue in her navel, chasing the drips of pink juice. The piece over her other nipple he spent a long time making sure no traces of remained on her skin, lapping at the tip long after it had hardened, the same color as the flesh of the berries. He didn’t follow the line down her body, moving from breast to belly and back again, catching one slice against the lowest of her ribs and letting her take it from him, her teeth scraping over his lip and surprising a faint moan from him. Too soon and not soon enough only one sliver of berry remained, resting at the very base of her abdomen, just edging the auburn curls.

The taste of the fruit was heavy on his tongue, so sweet it was cloying, battling with the deeper, warmer smell of aroused bodies in the heat of the afternoon. She’d pushed herself up on one elbow, watching expectantly as he lowered his head. He’d been kneeling between her legs, a hand on her thigh, and now he kissed her hip, smiling at her irritated noise. The last few pieces had been drawn out, but she was obviously growing impatient. He was tiring of the delay as well but had been trying to tease, successfully. One more beat, just long enough for her to take in a breath to speak, and he dropped open-mouthed on the last slice, sucking it gently up and, biting into it and swallowing it quickly, sucking on the skin itself, hearing her exhale slowly. Her scent was getting heavier, and when he glanced up she was biting down on her lower lip, her eyes closed. He saw an opportunity.

Before she opened her eyes again, before she came up with any suggestions now that all the strawberries were gone, he hunched down just far enough to flick his tongue against her wet flesh.

Beka gasped and arched up, and he jerked out of the way. He was pleased that she hadn’t expected that, but not enough to risk a collision. When he looked up at her, her eyes were wide open again as she lowered her hips back to the bed. He grinned. “Should I continue?”

“Oh please God yes.” The words spilled out quickly and she smiled, looking embarrassed.

“Very well.” He waited a moment until she lay back down, flushed, although he wasn’t sure whether it was arousal or embarrassment causing it. Either way she seemed to be fighting an anxious grimace. She’d been hinting at this for a while, at any rate, and that brief taste he’d gotten, faintly salty against the fructose, was more tempting than he would have thought. Once she was lying flat, he bent down again.

She tried to bite back the moan when he licked, his tongue slipping up the length of her folds, but she failed. He would have smiled if he weren’t more intent on his task. This time he dipped inside her, wanting more of that sharp wetness, both oddly familiar from her smell and so different, and she shuddered under his mouth. A slide up, a press against her clit, and she arched; another drag and he felt her fingers weaving through his braids. He could have ignored even the scrape of her fingernails against his scalp, but as soon as he lapped at her clit she dug in, trying to force him down, harder. He pulled away instead.

“Come on, don’t stop!” She reached for him again.

“I’m not stopping.” He was, however, moving. Still kneeling, he slid down the bed, shifted to his elbows before pulling at her legs so her feet were flat on the mattress. It took those seconds for her to realize what he was doing but realize she must have, moving with him so her knees were hooked over his shoulders, his hands bearing down against her hips. Not only were his boneblades pointed away from any body parts, a permanent concern, but when she reached for his head again he was able to catch her hands and hold them against her pelvis, not exactly pinned but enough to slow her down. Satisfied with the position, he leaned to lick again, hearing her whimper as soon as he did and enjoyed the reaction, although it was hard for him to hear it and not to just push her legs to either side, to move back up the bed and into her, into the welcoming warmth he could feel against his lips when he thrust his tongue into her again. He knew so well how it felt, and the shift a moment ago had brought his attention back to what he wanted as well, the tip of his erection rubbing against the sheets as he’d rearranged them both. Tyr did his best to ignore it.

Instead he licked again, curled his tongue inside her and made her moan, circled her clit until she begged for more, fingers grasping under his. She was slick now, her pulse beating in time with the glide of his tongue in her and the answering throb of his own blood. He wanted to make her come screaming, wanted to satisfy his own need after seeing her spread open in front of him, and so he slipped free of that heat for just a moment. It was long enough to hear her groan and her first words of promising him anything if he’d just keep going, but he interrupted her.

She must have been close, with the way she cried out when he pressed the flat of his tongue to that cluster of nerves. He didn’t back away this time, either, a rhythmic compression and release for a few seconds before he pursed his lips and sucked. Her whole body shuddered and even his hands didn’t prevent the rise of her hips, the sudden sharp clench of her hands for purchase as that pulse went wild under his mouth, her smell peaking and hooking deep into his senses. Trying to get more of it and of that appealing taste on his tongue he dipped into her again, feeling her spasm a few last times around him. It was good, far more than he would have thought, but now his own need was nagging at him, his body aching for release.

He pulled away from her legs and slid up the bed. Bypassing that wet heat, ignoring the urge to plunge into her, was harder than he would have thought, but he didn’t want to come yet, and that would happen if he gave in. He needed just a moment to try to subdue it, get control over himself after seeing and tasting and feeling her climax, or it wouldn’t last at all no matter how much he wanted it to. Desperate for some form of grounding, he braced his hands beside her shoulders and leaned to kiss her, shivering when his shaft brushed her belly and sent sparks through all his nerve endings. He couldn’t believe it when Beka dodged the kiss that he wanted so badly, tried again convinced it was a mistake of motion; she twisted her head just a little to the side again but this time instead of pulling away entirely she had her lips against his neck, kissing and sucking and scraping— just once— her teeth over his skin. He groaned and tried to pull away, the stimulation not helping him.

Rather than let him she slipped one hand behind his head, successfully twining her fingers in his braids this time and holding him there so she could do it again, only millimeters away but far enough to send wholly new shocks through him. He groaned. “Beka, please, let me—”

“No,” she breathed against his neck before she bit him.

He dug his fingers into the bedding at the acute shock of the pain, fighting to keep some measure of mastery over his own body and failing. He would have declared defeat then, driven into her hard and fast, but then her hand was on him, fingers tight and thumb rubbing the moisture at the tip of him. The jerk forward into her grip was impossible to prevent. She must have taken it as approval, because she stroked him once, twice, in quick succession and then bit again. He would have bruises, he knew, but that he didn’t care about, only the way heat flashed through his body from his neck to his groin, stoking the fire there. She settled into a fast rhythm, short hard strokes over his shaft and her thumb with its pilot’s calluses chafing against the sensitive nerves at the base of the head. He grunted, thrust against her palm desperately, so close to oblivion it hurt. She let go of his hair, the lack of pain from the tug only barely impinging on his consciousness. She didn’t need to hold him where she could suck at the spot at the base of his neck anymore. Instead she moved her hand to his forearm, her fingers circling the base of a boneblade with her next stroke.

She knew his body too well, and it was too much and too good, and he was racked with convulsions, erupting over her hand. She continued the motions afterward, caressing until finally he couldn’t take any more, oversensitive from the orgasm and his arms trembling so badly that it was impossible to support himself. He pulled away, and still breathing heavily he collapsed next to her.

“You okay?” she asked after giving him a moment to collect himself.

He nodded, not able to come up with anything more than that, and watched as she took up a corner of the sheet to wipe off her hand and stomach. It was already stained with some of the strawberry juice that he hadn’t caught, and he suspected they’d have to change the sheets after they got up. That would be a little longer, though, as his limbs still felt too shaky to support his weight. Beka must not have been feeling inclined toward movement, either, as the most she did was turn onto her side to face him. They were close, and he could feel the heat of her body against his skin. She reached out and untied the string holding his braids in place, letting them fall loose. One of them she caught and twisted between her fingers until he reached to free it, kissing her knuckles. She didn’t try pulling away.

After another long minute of silence, during which she seemed to be contemplating him, she said quietly, “Thank you for that.”

“For what? Pleasing you?” He turned her hand in his and kissed the inside of her wrist instead.

“Sort of. You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting you to do that.” She scraped her teeth over her lower lip like she was thinking, but the lilt in her voice was amused. “Maybe I should loan you my holonovels more often?”

He shrugged, one-shouldered, before releasing her arm. “If there are other activities you want to attempt, you could simply tell me rather than resort to subterfuge.”

She leaned closer and kissed him, a simple brush of lips. “I could, but I think the subterfuge’s more fun. And more rewarding.”

“Possibly.” Tyr couldn’t prevent the smile from spreading. Ever the treasure hunter, and that was something to consider another of their dwindling days. For now he would settle for a shower, clean sheets, and perhaps a few more chapters in the hammock, with company this time.



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