Fic: To His Mistress Going To Bed
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singularityTitle: To His Mistress Going To Bed
Author:fringedwellerfic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: McCoy/Chapel
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not making any money off this.
Author's Notes: I'm in the middle of writing a slash series around Kirk/McCoy using the poetry of John Donne as a theme. I love To My Mistress Going To Bed but just couldn't make it fit with Kirk/McCoy so I decided to make it McCoy/Chapel, set in the reboot AU and part of an established relationship.
Come, madam, come, all rest my powers defy;
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The foe ofttimes, having the foe in sight,
Is tired with standing, though he never fight
“What the hell are you doing in there? Get your ass out here, woman, I’m not getting any younger!”
Christine Chapel smiled to herself as she checked her reflection in the small bathroom mirror. She’d only been gone for a week , but anyone listening to Len bellowing from her bedroom would think he’d gone without sex for a month.
She’d been leading a medical away team to inoculate the colonists of Atarus while the Enterprise had gone a few systems over to perform a standard meet and greet with a new society that had just discovered warp technology. Of course, no mission on the Enterprise could ever be described as standard; ever since she had beamed back she had heard of nothing but the surprise attack by the Tilisi, and the havoc the Captain had created while trying to negotiate a ceasefire and open diplomatic negotiations.
Len had spared her one long, burning look that had made her stomach flip-flop with desire, then started to bark at the returning team. He’d got wounded personnel in auxiliary sickbays, a captain that thought personally beaming down into the middle of a group of highly-armed, xenophobic cretins was a good idea and a head-up-his-ass moron at Starfleet Command that decided to rob him of half his staff in the middle of a war zone.
She’d never been so physically drawn to him, and she could feel her body responding; nipples tightening and peaking, a slickness forming between her legs, her heart rate increasing. He’d noticed it too, the bastard, and spent the rest of the shift “accidentally” brushing against her, and speaking in those low, deep tones that seemed to speak directly to the part of her that wanted to roll over and spread her legs wide. This was so typical of the way they worked; he seemed to find pleasure in discovering chinks in her armour of professional behaviour. He would never go so far as to do anything that would get them in trouble; they both enjoyed working on the Enterprise far too much to risk their positions for a quick fumble in his office while on shift. Still, he had become awfully adept at winding her up to the point that their decidedly off-duty sex was explosive.
Today, she had decided, the tables were going to turn.
Now their working day was over; the soft chime signalling the end of beta shift had sounded throughout the ship. She’d arrived back at her quarters to find him already naked in her bed. He’d been sitting propped up against the pillows, his biceps and pectoral muscles defined by the way he had crossed his arms behind his head. The soft green sheets she had bought at the market on Chosu Prime were draped across his lower body and doing absolutely nothing to disguise his erection. Chapel had rolled her eyes at the obviousness of it all; all that was missing was the flower between his teeth. If she discovered he had been taking seduction tips from James T Kirk again she’d have to take revenge somehow.
She had ducked into the bathroom with promises of speed, freshening up after a long shift of hard work. She had lingered purposefully; deliberately provoking Len’s short temper had worked wonderfully for her in the past. Besides, she had already prepared herself for their reunion down on the planet when she thought she’d be returning straight to his arms, not to an eight hour stint in the sickbay.
Off with that girdle, like heaven’s zone glittering,
But a far fairer world encompassing,
Unpin that spangled breastplate, which you wear,
That th’ eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
She left the bathroom still fully clothed, a fact that did not escape Len’s attention. He sat bolt upright, and scowled. Christine just smiled, stretched and unclipped her earrings. She dropped them on the dressing table, and unhooked her necklace. Both had been birthday presents from Len, clusters of gorgeous Vicosian crystals that glittered like the stars they flew through. The pendant cluster dangled just above her breasts, and was quite useful in distracting the attention of patients who would otherwise be staring a lot lower.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
Tells me that it is bed-time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off such a beauteous state reveals,
As when from flowery meads th’ hill’s shadow steals.
Her hands moved to the fastenings of her uniform and she slowly began to pluck them open. The material began to loosen and fall, revealing her soft pink skin a little further with each release. Len began to smirk, and resumed his position on the bed, enjoying the show she was providing. She rolled her shoulders once, and the material fell to the floor. Len goggled, and Christine let a smirk of her own slip forth. ‘Serves you right for all those times you accidentally grabbed my ass today,’ she thought wickedly.
“Jesus Christ woman, you mean to tell me you had that get up on under your uniform all day and you didn’t tell me?” he demanded.
“I was waiting to show you,” she purred.
Gone was her usual lingerie, Earth-bought and utterly familiar. Instead was a beautiful concoction of soft Atarsian material in a bright white and pale pastel blue that suited her blonde hair and fair skin perfectly. The delay in the Enterprise returning to collect the medical team had meant that there was time to browse the main city’s marketplace, and Christine had discovered a wonderful shop dedicated purely to lingerie. It was frivolous, old fashioned, unpractical and ridiculously expensive; definitely not what you’d expect an award-winning biochemist and Head Nurse of Starfleet’s flagship to be wearing under her sedate uniform. She’d left wearing a basque and matching briefs, along with a matching suspender belt and snag-proof hosiery. The rest was packaged in beautiful wrapping paper and had been stashed in her empty medkits, now residing in a storage bay until she could liberate it later.
It was an utterly empowering experience, standing in front of her stunned lover as he drank in the sight of her, like a parched man gulping cool water. Dr Leonard McCoy, always authoritative, usually brusque, occasionally downright scary was staring at her speechless, his usually expression of concentrated intelligence wiped clear and replaced with one of pure lust and longing.
Hah. He could take his accidental touches and his deliberately deep voice. She’d won this round.
Off with your wiry coronet, and show
The hairy diadems which on you do grow.
Off with your hose and shoes; then softly tread
In this love’s hallowed temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes heaven’s angels used to be
Revealed to men; thou, angel, bring’st with thee
A heaven-like Mahomet’s paradise; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know
By these angels from an evil sprite;
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
She moved her hands upwards to unpin her hair from its usual neat bindings, but that small shift in her body was enough to galvanise her lover. He threw back the covers and strode over to her, catching her wrist in his firm grip.
“Let me,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on the pulse point. She nodded in acquiescence and he began to gently remove the pins, carding the released hair between his fingers as it drifted to her shoulders. “It’s like sunlight, Chris,” he whispered as he let a handful slip between his fingers. She couldn’t help shivering at the hot puff of air that warmed her neck and she moved back against his body, shamlessly rubbing her silk-clad backside against his hard length. His arm slipped around her waist and she could feel the scratchy hair on his arm and shoulder rub against her soft skin.
He turned her around to face him, then dropped to his knees. Looking up with a smile, he began to drop tiny, precise kisses along the small strip of exposed skin between the basque and her briefs. She had to close her eyes and lean back against the wall for support as he nuzzled downwards, searching out her clit through the soft satin of the underwear. His hands ran up and down her legs, then settled on her uniform boots. He found the release, and peeled the leather from her left leg. He skated the palm of his hand down her calf muscle and picked up her foot, digging his strong thumbs into the arch of her foot. The sensation made Christine moan aloud, and he repeated it with a grin, obviously delighted to invoke such a powerful sensation. He repeated the action on her other leg, tossing the boot away to meet its mate in an untidy pile on the floor.
It was unfair, Christine thought hazily as his hands began a return journey up her legs. It had taken her months to map his body and find his pleasure spots, places she could kiss and stroke to cause him to lose control and moan her name, accent coming thickly through full, well-kissed lips. He seemed to know instinctively what would cause her maximum pleasure, finding bliss from places on her body that she didn’t know existed.
The captain had a reputation as a great lover, but Christine knew that Leonard could give him a run for his money if anyone was to find out just how talented he was.
She had no plans for anyone else to ever find out.
His fingers had reached the antiquated suspender belt, and had no trouble in unsnapping any of the catches that had caused her so much trouble that morning in the changing room. He delicately rolled the thin material of the hosiery down her leg a few centimetres and began to worship the exposed skin with his lips. He slowly revealed her entire leg this way, then repeated the action with the other.
This was not the way it was supposed to be, Christine thought, watching his dark head slip further down her leg. She was supposed to be the one seducing him for once, driving him slowly crazy with desire. He couldn’t help it; she couldn’t blame him. It was part of who he was. His instinct to drive, to lead was what lead him to spend as much time as he did on the bridge, where the action was and on Away Teams, despite his hatred of shuttles and transporting. Still, she mused, as she watched him reveal and kiss an ankle, it’s not as if he wasn’t completely wrapt now. She doubted a red alert siren could budge him from his explorations.
License my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O! My America, my new found land.
My kingdom, safest when with one man mann’d.
My mine of precious stones, my empery;
How am I blest in thus discovering thee!
To enter in these binds, is to be free;
Then, where my hand is set, my soul shall be.
As soon as he peeled the second stocking off she fisted a hand in his hair and tugged him upwards, catching his mouth with hers for a long, powerful kiss. He returned it eagerly, his hands spanning her rib cage and his thumbs rubbing insistently back and forth across her nipples through the softness of the material. One hand pushed lower, his fingers playing with the strip of bare skin between the basque and her underwear. One questing finger slipped lower and dipped into her wet heat. Her eager response saw another long finger joining the first, the palm of his hand curled to rub insistently at her clitoris. Christine rocked back enthusiastically, snaking out a hand to grip his length with the firm grip she knew he enjoyed. He growled, and caught up both of her slender wrists with his free hand. He pinned them firmly against the wall above her head and leaned in for another passionate kiss, all the time maintaining the rhythm against her clitoris. Her orgasm hit her hard, jolts of electricity radiating out through all her nerve endings. Her scream was muffled by his fierce kisses, and he dropped his grip on her wrists so she could drape her arms around his neck for support.
She slumped against him for unknown moments, until his muscles bunched and shifted and she found herself scooped up and placed in the centre of the bed. He sat behind her and kissed and nuzzled at her neck as he pulled at the bindings of the basque. The helpful shop owner had helped her get into it that morning as there was no way that anyone could manage it alone. It didn’t take him long, nimble surgeon’s fingers making short shrift of the laces. He pushed the shoulder straps down, and lifted the material over her head. His fingers returned to knead at her heavy breasts, tugging lightly but firmly at her nipples, causing them to throb in time with her panting breaths. His warm breath ghosted over her neck and shoulders, his warm lips kissed a trail of devotion down her spine. Her briefs and suspender belt joined the pile of her clothes on the floor.
Full nakedness, all joys are due to thee
As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be,
To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta's balls, cast in men's views,
That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem,
His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings made
For laymen, are all women thus arrayed;
Themselves are mystic books, which only we
Whom their imputed grace will dignify
Must see revealed. Then since I may know,
As liberally, as to a midwife, show
Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
Here is no penance, much less innocence.
To teach thee, I am naked first, why then
Why needst thou have more covering than a man?
Christine lifted herself up and around to face him, pushed him onto his back, positioned herself carefully and sank down onto him in one quick movement. His loud groan of pleasure made her grateful for the soundproofing of the walls; they were trying to be as discreet as they could. She lifted herself up and down in a quick rhythm, her breasts jogging in time to their thrusts. His hands gripped her waist tightly as she clenched her internal muscles around his firm length. She shifted position to lean forwards to bite gently at his sensitive nipples. The change in position altered the sensation for both of them. Christine could feel another orgasm building slowly deep within her body, and so shifted back upright again to take control.
“Bend your legs,” she managed to pant out between thrusts. Len obeyed immediately, and she leaned carefully backwards until her back was supported by his firm thighs. He moaned his approval, and the new angle pleased her as well, the familiar spiralling sensation beginning to tug more strongly at her centre. His hands shifted from her waist to her sex, and between the sensation of being so utterly filled by his thrusting cock and the firm pressure of his fingers rubbing circles into her sensitive clit she had no control over the wave of pleasure that rolled through her. She made sure to pull her internal muscles in as hard as she could, and moments later she felt the rhythm of his thrusts changing, stuttering and stopping as a flood of liquid shot into her.
She slumped, sweaty and exhausted onto his chest. His arms came up around her and hugged her fiercely. Even if she wanted to move, she couldn’t. Not that there was anywhere else she wanted to be at this moment in time, anyway.
They lay there together for an age, the sweat on their bodies cooling in the carefully climate-controlled room. She ran the flat of a thumbnail along the curve of his bicep, he ran his fingers gently through the tangles in her hair. He was the first to break the silence.
“Was that all you brought back with you from Atarus?” he said idly, aiming for casual and missing by light years.
Christine grinned into his chest.
“There may have been one or two more pieces,” she said lazily, pretending to yawn. “But I think I’ll keep them for special occasions.”
“Special occasions?” he questioned. “Like what?” He tensed slightly. “You’re not going to make me wait for my birthday, are you?”
Christine couldn’t help laughing at the pleading note in his voice. He may well be authoritative, brusque and downright scary but now she knew exactly how to get him to roll over and beg. These sickbay powerplays were going to be a lot more interesting now she had a secret weapon. Smiling, she replied, “You’re going to feel like every day is your birthday. The only question is, what’s my present?”
Rolling over with a growl, he proceeded to show her exactly the sort of present she could hope to receive and proving the old adage that giving a present is just as enjoyable as receiving one.
Author:
fringedwellerficRating: NC-17
Pairing: McCoy/Chapel
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not making any money off this.
Author's Notes: I'm in the middle of writing a slash series around Kirk/McCoy using the poetry of John Donne as a theme. I love To My Mistress Going To Bed but just couldn't make it fit with Kirk/McCoy so I decided to make it McCoy/Chapel, set in the reboot AU and part of an established relationship.
Come, madam, come, all rest my powers defy;
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The foe ofttimes, having the foe in sight,
Is tired with standing, though he never fight
“What the hell are you doing in there? Get your ass out here, woman, I’m not getting any younger!”
Christine Chapel smiled to herself as she checked her reflection in the small bathroom mirror. She’d only been gone for a week , but anyone listening to Len bellowing from her bedroom would think he’d gone without sex for a month.
She’d been leading a medical away team to inoculate the colonists of Atarus while the Enterprise had gone a few systems over to perform a standard meet and greet with a new society that had just discovered warp technology. Of course, no mission on the Enterprise could ever be described as standard; ever since she had beamed back she had heard of nothing but the surprise attack by the Tilisi, and the havoc the Captain had created while trying to negotiate a ceasefire and open diplomatic negotiations.
Len had spared her one long, burning look that had made her stomach flip-flop with desire, then started to bark at the returning team. He’d got wounded personnel in auxiliary sickbays, a captain that thought personally beaming down into the middle of a group of highly-armed, xenophobic cretins was a good idea and a head-up-his-ass moron at Starfleet Command that decided to rob him of half his staff in the middle of a war zone.
She’d never been so physically drawn to him, and she could feel her body responding; nipples tightening and peaking, a slickness forming between her legs, her heart rate increasing. He’d noticed it too, the bastard, and spent the rest of the shift “accidentally” brushing against her, and speaking in those low, deep tones that seemed to speak directly to the part of her that wanted to roll over and spread her legs wide. This was so typical of the way they worked; he seemed to find pleasure in discovering chinks in her armour of professional behaviour. He would never go so far as to do anything that would get them in trouble; they both enjoyed working on the Enterprise far too much to risk their positions for a quick fumble in his office while on shift. Still, he had become awfully adept at winding her up to the point that their decidedly off-duty sex was explosive.
Today, she had decided, the tables were going to turn.
Now their working day was over; the soft chime signalling the end of beta shift had sounded throughout the ship. She’d arrived back at her quarters to find him already naked in her bed. He’d been sitting propped up against the pillows, his biceps and pectoral muscles defined by the way he had crossed his arms behind his head. The soft green sheets she had bought at the market on Chosu Prime were draped across his lower body and doing absolutely nothing to disguise his erection. Chapel had rolled her eyes at the obviousness of it all; all that was missing was the flower between his teeth. If she discovered he had been taking seduction tips from James T Kirk again she’d have to take revenge somehow.
She had ducked into the bathroom with promises of speed, freshening up after a long shift of hard work. She had lingered purposefully; deliberately provoking Len’s short temper had worked wonderfully for her in the past. Besides, she had already prepared herself for their reunion down on the planet when she thought she’d be returning straight to his arms, not to an eight hour stint in the sickbay.
Off with that girdle, like heaven’s zone glittering,
But a far fairer world encompassing,
Unpin that spangled breastplate, which you wear,
That th’ eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
She left the bathroom still fully clothed, a fact that did not escape Len’s attention. He sat bolt upright, and scowled. Christine just smiled, stretched and unclipped her earrings. She dropped them on the dressing table, and unhooked her necklace. Both had been birthday presents from Len, clusters of gorgeous Vicosian crystals that glittered like the stars they flew through. The pendant cluster dangled just above her breasts, and was quite useful in distracting the attention of patients who would otherwise be staring a lot lower.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
Tells me that it is bed-time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off such a beauteous state reveals,
As when from flowery meads th’ hill’s shadow steals.
Her hands moved to the fastenings of her uniform and she slowly began to pluck them open. The material began to loosen and fall, revealing her soft pink skin a little further with each release. Len began to smirk, and resumed his position on the bed, enjoying the show she was providing. She rolled her shoulders once, and the material fell to the floor. Len goggled, and Christine let a smirk of her own slip forth. ‘Serves you right for all those times you accidentally grabbed my ass today,’ she thought wickedly.
“Jesus Christ woman, you mean to tell me you had that get up on under your uniform all day and you didn’t tell me?” he demanded.
“I was waiting to show you,” she purred.
Gone was her usual lingerie, Earth-bought and utterly familiar. Instead was a beautiful concoction of soft Atarsian material in a bright white and pale pastel blue that suited her blonde hair and fair skin perfectly. The delay in the Enterprise returning to collect the medical team had meant that there was time to browse the main city’s marketplace, and Christine had discovered a wonderful shop dedicated purely to lingerie. It was frivolous, old fashioned, unpractical and ridiculously expensive; definitely not what you’d expect an award-winning biochemist and Head Nurse of Starfleet’s flagship to be wearing under her sedate uniform. She’d left wearing a basque and matching briefs, along with a matching suspender belt and snag-proof hosiery. The rest was packaged in beautiful wrapping paper and had been stashed in her empty medkits, now residing in a storage bay until she could liberate it later.
It was an utterly empowering experience, standing in front of her stunned lover as he drank in the sight of her, like a parched man gulping cool water. Dr Leonard McCoy, always authoritative, usually brusque, occasionally downright scary was staring at her speechless, his usually expression of concentrated intelligence wiped clear and replaced with one of pure lust and longing.
Hah. He could take his accidental touches and his deliberately deep voice. She’d won this round.
Off with your wiry coronet, and show
The hairy diadems which on you do grow.
Off with your hose and shoes; then softly tread
In this love’s hallowed temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes heaven’s angels used to be
Revealed to men; thou, angel, bring’st with thee
A heaven-like Mahomet’s paradise; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know
By these angels from an evil sprite;
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
She moved her hands upwards to unpin her hair from its usual neat bindings, but that small shift in her body was enough to galvanise her lover. He threw back the covers and strode over to her, catching her wrist in his firm grip.
“Let me,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on the pulse point. She nodded in acquiescence and he began to gently remove the pins, carding the released hair between his fingers as it drifted to her shoulders. “It’s like sunlight, Chris,” he whispered as he let a handful slip between his fingers. She couldn’t help shivering at the hot puff of air that warmed her neck and she moved back against his body, shamlessly rubbing her silk-clad backside against his hard length. His arm slipped around her waist and she could feel the scratchy hair on his arm and shoulder rub against her soft skin.
He turned her around to face him, then dropped to his knees. Looking up with a smile, he began to drop tiny, precise kisses along the small strip of exposed skin between the basque and her briefs. She had to close her eyes and lean back against the wall for support as he nuzzled downwards, searching out her clit through the soft satin of the underwear. His hands ran up and down her legs, then settled on her uniform boots. He found the release, and peeled the leather from her left leg. He skated the palm of his hand down her calf muscle and picked up her foot, digging his strong thumbs into the arch of her foot. The sensation made Christine moan aloud, and he repeated it with a grin, obviously delighted to invoke such a powerful sensation. He repeated the action on her other leg, tossing the boot away to meet its mate in an untidy pile on the floor.
It was unfair, Christine thought hazily as his hands began a return journey up her legs. It had taken her months to map his body and find his pleasure spots, places she could kiss and stroke to cause him to lose control and moan her name, accent coming thickly through full, well-kissed lips. He seemed to know instinctively what would cause her maximum pleasure, finding bliss from places on her body that she didn’t know existed.
The captain had a reputation as a great lover, but Christine knew that Leonard could give him a run for his money if anyone was to find out just how talented he was.
She had no plans for anyone else to ever find out.
His fingers had reached the antiquated suspender belt, and had no trouble in unsnapping any of the catches that had caused her so much trouble that morning in the changing room. He delicately rolled the thin material of the hosiery down her leg a few centimetres and began to worship the exposed skin with his lips. He slowly revealed her entire leg this way, then repeated the action with the other.
This was not the way it was supposed to be, Christine thought, watching his dark head slip further down her leg. She was supposed to be the one seducing him for once, driving him slowly crazy with desire. He couldn’t help it; she couldn’t blame him. It was part of who he was. His instinct to drive, to lead was what lead him to spend as much time as he did on the bridge, where the action was and on Away Teams, despite his hatred of shuttles and transporting. Still, she mused, as she watched him reveal and kiss an ankle, it’s not as if he wasn’t completely wrapt now. She doubted a red alert siren could budge him from his explorations.
License my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O! My America, my new found land.
My kingdom, safest when with one man mann’d.
My mine of precious stones, my empery;
How am I blest in thus discovering thee!
To enter in these binds, is to be free;
Then, where my hand is set, my soul shall be.
As soon as he peeled the second stocking off she fisted a hand in his hair and tugged him upwards, catching his mouth with hers for a long, powerful kiss. He returned it eagerly, his hands spanning her rib cage and his thumbs rubbing insistently back and forth across her nipples through the softness of the material. One hand pushed lower, his fingers playing with the strip of bare skin between the basque and her underwear. One questing finger slipped lower and dipped into her wet heat. Her eager response saw another long finger joining the first, the palm of his hand curled to rub insistently at her clitoris. Christine rocked back enthusiastically, snaking out a hand to grip his length with the firm grip she knew he enjoyed. He growled, and caught up both of her slender wrists with his free hand. He pinned them firmly against the wall above her head and leaned in for another passionate kiss, all the time maintaining the rhythm against her clitoris. Her orgasm hit her hard, jolts of electricity radiating out through all her nerve endings. Her scream was muffled by his fierce kisses, and he dropped his grip on her wrists so she could drape her arms around his neck for support.
She slumped against him for unknown moments, until his muscles bunched and shifted and she found herself scooped up and placed in the centre of the bed. He sat behind her and kissed and nuzzled at her neck as he pulled at the bindings of the basque. The helpful shop owner had helped her get into it that morning as there was no way that anyone could manage it alone. It didn’t take him long, nimble surgeon’s fingers making short shrift of the laces. He pushed the shoulder straps down, and lifted the material over her head. His fingers returned to knead at her heavy breasts, tugging lightly but firmly at her nipples, causing them to throb in time with her panting breaths. His warm breath ghosted over her neck and shoulders, his warm lips kissed a trail of devotion down her spine. Her briefs and suspender belt joined the pile of her clothes on the floor.
Full nakedness, all joys are due to thee
As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be,
To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta's balls, cast in men's views,
That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem,
His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings made
For laymen, are all women thus arrayed;
Themselves are mystic books, which only we
Whom their imputed grace will dignify
Must see revealed. Then since I may know,
As liberally, as to a midwife, show
Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
Here is no penance, much less innocence.
To teach thee, I am naked first, why then
Why needst thou have more covering than a man?
Christine lifted herself up and around to face him, pushed him onto his back, positioned herself carefully and sank down onto him in one quick movement. His loud groan of pleasure made her grateful for the soundproofing of the walls; they were trying to be as discreet as they could. She lifted herself up and down in a quick rhythm, her breasts jogging in time to their thrusts. His hands gripped her waist tightly as she clenched her internal muscles around his firm length. She shifted position to lean forwards to bite gently at his sensitive nipples. The change in position altered the sensation for both of them. Christine could feel another orgasm building slowly deep within her body, and so shifted back upright again to take control.
“Bend your legs,” she managed to pant out between thrusts. Len obeyed immediately, and she leaned carefully backwards until her back was supported by his firm thighs. He moaned his approval, and the new angle pleased her as well, the familiar spiralling sensation beginning to tug more strongly at her centre. His hands shifted from her waist to her sex, and between the sensation of being so utterly filled by his thrusting cock and the firm pressure of his fingers rubbing circles into her sensitive clit she had no control over the wave of pleasure that rolled through her. She made sure to pull her internal muscles in as hard as she could, and moments later she felt the rhythm of his thrusts changing, stuttering and stopping as a flood of liquid shot into her.
She slumped, sweaty and exhausted onto his chest. His arms came up around her and hugged her fiercely. Even if she wanted to move, she couldn’t. Not that there was anywhere else she wanted to be at this moment in time, anyway.
They lay there together for an age, the sweat on their bodies cooling in the carefully climate-controlled room. She ran the flat of a thumbnail along the curve of his bicep, he ran his fingers gently through the tangles in her hair. He was the first to break the silence.
“Was that all you brought back with you from Atarus?” he said idly, aiming for casual and missing by light years.
Christine grinned into his chest.
“There may have been one or two more pieces,” she said lazily, pretending to yawn. “But I think I’ll keep them for special occasions.”
“Special occasions?” he questioned. “Like what?” He tensed slightly. “You’re not going to make me wait for my birthday, are you?”
Christine couldn’t help laughing at the pleading note in his voice. He may well be authoritative, brusque and downright scary but now she knew exactly how to get him to roll over and beg. These sickbay powerplays were going to be a lot more interesting now she had a secret weapon. Smiling, she replied, “You’re going to feel like every day is your birthday. The only question is, what’s my present?”
Rolling over with a growl, he proceeded to show her exactly the sort of present she could hope to receive and proving the old adage that giving a present is just as enjoyable as receiving one.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-26 02:33 am (UTC)