By The Way

Rating:   NC-17
Setting:  Early Season One 
Spoilers: Through A Bug’s Life

Warnings: Yes for sex. If you are age inappropriate, please click the back button now. If this type of thing makes you uncomfortable, offends you, or is simply not your thing, please also click back.
Notes: Ah…another foray into the early season from yours truly. That makes a grand total of two from me so far. But this has been percolating at the back of what passes for my mind these days for awhile, and when Agent Rouka needed something to cure a craving she was having on a very bad day, this humble little offering was the best I could do. So here it is. What can I say? I’m still looking at two straight, solid months of school. Sorry. Too short for a proper beta, unusual for me, but the usual suspects, i.e., Eva, Maria, and Susan, did the required drive-bys. My thanks to them as always. And as always, all mistakes remain mine.
Disclaimers: Definitely not mine. It all belongs to Henson, et.al. Definitely no copyright infringement intended and no money being made.

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“Just stay away from it, okay?"

He stands and her eyes follow him as she tilts her head, looks up at him through lowered lashes. A shiver shakes her as her eyes lock on his and see something there that makes her thrum. Want and need, fierce and feral burn there, just for her. She feels an answering echo deep inside, a familiar, welcome dance that she knows the steps to and has missed doing.

“Where should I go then?”

His hand is there, waiting for her, and as she slips hers into his she feels the current tingle and arc between them. He curls his fingers around hers, suddenly pulls her to her feet as he steps into her, wraps his free arm around her waist to hold her close as they breathe the same air. His cheek slides against hers, friction and burn against cool satin.

“Your quarters,” he whispers low and gruff, his breath hot in her ear.

Another shiver shimmers through her as she breaks their full body connection and begins leading him out of the center chamber. She’s just one step ahead, but she can feel his eyes locked on her as she walks, feel the ferocious hunger envelop her from without and within.

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

He’s pressing her hard up against Moya’s warm wall, hands in her hair, cupping her skull for a deep, wet, open-mouthed kiss as her hand searches blindly for the door sensor. Her palm swipes it and she pulls him with her, fused lips to hips as they stumble across the threshold into the darkness of her quarters.

“I want to see you,” he murmurs roughly against her lips.

“Lights low,” she breathes against his mouth as he claims shared territory again.

Her hands work his shirt out of his leathers and ruck it upward. He tears his lips away from hers only long enough for her to pull it over his head. Then he’s kissing her hard again as her hands claw for purchase on the smooth planes of his broad back and shoulders. His hands slide along the curve of her hip to cup her ass, lift her in strong arms as she wraps her legs around his waist.

He presses her hard against he wall again, leans back slightly to allow himself room to work her shirt out of her leathers and up and off. His lips roam the planes and angles of her face, trace her brow, her cheek, her nose, her lips, the delicate shell of her ear and down the long, elegant column of her neck in a trail of electric energy that sparks between them as he pushes hard against her.

She feels him, hot and heavy, full of need and the urge to take.

She knows this. Remembers it. Wants it.

His tongue drives hard, fierce and searching against hers as he spins her away from the wall and walks them to her bed. He lays her down, heavy lidded eyes burning bright in the dim light of the cell. She lifts her hips as his hands work her pants over her hips, slide down along her legs to draw them off.

His hands make quick work of his own pants, and then he’s next to her, over her, fused to her again, skin to skin as his fingers find their way down her body, slide into her wet warmth. It’s need. It’s want. It’s clear.

Rules and freedom. No words, but everything she understands and has missed.

Her hand reaches to wrap around him, stroke him as he groans his pleasure, his desire. He’s hard and hot and heavy and she knows he’s ready.

He rips his lips from hers, trails them down her body as he shifts himself between her legs, nudges them apart to give himself room.

She already hot and wet as lays her open slit to clit with the flat of his tongue. She shudders beneath him, waves of warmth flooding her as he works her, his tongue piercing, probing. She arches as the electricity he’s generating shoots up her spine, nerve endings tingling and synapses firing as her hips rise. His hands cup her ass to hold her tight as his lips fuse to hers.

She comes in an explosion of stars behind her eyes, a white noise of buzzing in her head. She’s shivering and trembling as he crawls up her body to kiss her hungrily.

Her tongue dives deep as she wraps strong arms around him and rolls them, pushing up off his broad shoulders to straddle him. She leans back, rests her hands on his thighs and grinds herself against his base. One hand slides up the inside of his thigh to cup his balls, massaging them as he growls deep in the back of his throat.

She rises up, brings her hand forward to stroke him, as she rubs wet warmth over his tip. As his eyes glaze under lowered lids, she slides down slowly and easily, slides back into her skin and her life, taking him in, clenching against his length as she comes settles. His hands dig deep into her waist and hips, promising bruises. She doesn’t care, as she leans back again, craving the contact and the friction, and begins to frell him into oblivion.

Her head is humming again, her breathing harsh and heavy as his hands come up to cup her skull, pull her down toward him. Her hands fall to either side of his face as his head comes up and his lips capture a nipple, his free hand rolling the other between rough fingers. She lets out a long, low groan of anticipation. She’s close and she knows it.

He is too. And with a growl he flips them.

He rises to his knees, brings her legs to his shoulders, his tip to her entrance as she lets her knees bend, her feet rest on his back. He rubs himself against her, positioning himself, before driving deep. He knees himself closer, settles deeper, and begins to slowly move.

Their hips drive in rhythm as he strokes long and slow, all the way out, all the way in. His hands grab hard against her shoulders, hers grab his hips, fingertips digging, pulling him to her roughly, fitting them even more tightly together as he begins to pick up speed. He leans forward to cover her mouth with his, inhale her breath as her hips come off the bed to allow him deeper access.

He straightens again, looms over her, tendons cording in his neck and along his arms, panting open-mouthed as his eyes roll slowly up.

“Frell,” he groans, lowering his head toward hers, he lets eyes burning with desire lock on hers as his hips piston harder and faster. Her hips are rising again as the wave breaks over her, drags her under, and she’s only dimly aware of his head thrown back, his low groan mixed with the sound coming from her own throat as he drives harder against her in the throes of his own climax.

He falls on top of her, skin slicked with sweat moving effortlessly against hers as he slides off her, wraps himself around her.

“That was very, very nice,” he breathes softly in her ear.

“Uhmhum,” she agrees, smiling to herself in the dark.

“I’d like to do it again.”

She can feel his smile against her neck. “I’d like that too,” she whispers.

Pilot’s voice over the comms sounds loud in the silence. “A single shot in the cargo area.”

She comes up on an elbow and asks, “Weapons fire?”

They are both rolling of the bed, grabbing at clothes. He grabs her arm as she passes on the way to the door. “We’ll do this again.”

She nods as she straps her pulse pistol to her thigh, and turns to leave. He’s behind her as they hit the corridor and begin their full out run to the cargo bay.