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JL | Lt Shran, Lt Dai'xun | "Breathe Me" pt 2

Posted on 241712.22 @ 21:35 by Lieutenant Si'a Dai'xun & Lieutenant Anaxar Shran

Mission: Ballynamony

They touched.

She wasn’t sure which had moved or how or when, but she could feel him rise from his kneeling place to rest to meet her. Or had she gathered him to her? Didn’t matter. The feel of him threatened to consume her, and she’d let it. Gods she’d let it. Si’a wanted to cry, the tears were there pricking at her eyes as she reveled in his acceptance, wrapping her arms around his head and holding it against her, his cheek against her naked chest and her fingers tangling gently in his hair “You aren’t alone anymore.” Her voice was all a quiver, ripe with emotion and some new element she couldn’t quite describe, conjured and called to by him. His touch was different, it wasn’t the delicate baby fine motions he’d used to soothe and comfort or check on her status. It was different. He was different. They were different and she was quickly drowning in him.

The touch, the smell of her… He pulled her close, or she pulled him, or both, and it didn't matter which was which. He felt the rough stubble against her tender skin, careful mustn't scratch her mustn't hurt her, he felt the tug of her fingers in his hair, and every touch of her brought more of him alive, shone a light where darkness had ruled before.

(an old fragment of a book he'd read as a child, travelling on a starship much like this one, a book which was a classic on Earth. A tale where dwarves, underground dwellers, entered a complex they had been forced to abandon long ago, and where the light they brought illuminated their halls and pillars, and the dwarf described to his friends what this place had looked long ago, when they were filled with life and laughter and light… For the first time, Anaxar understood how he must have felt)

He hadn't realised how alone he had been since they came back, he had lead a half-life and now he felt himself awaken. Oh, he wanted to laugh and to cry at the same time, he wanted to say nothing at all, just wanted to tell her all she needed to know with his fingers and his lips.

The hummingbird speed of her heart with the slower, deeper counterpoint of his own, the various fabrics strewn upon the floor around them each singing their own material song as they moved and touched, the soft bell-like chimes when he touched the weave of coins which had adorned her hair before formed an unearthly melody, soft, almost beyond the threshold of hearing. He whispered words, a song of his own, with his lips against her flesh, so warm it was and so soothing. He wanted, oh, he wanted to hold her, hold her tight so that she could never fade away like a dream, but he needed to find the balance between holding her and not hurting her with the full intensity of his desire.

His fingers seemed to have a will of their own, touching her carefully, stroking her hair, weaving through it, then reaching her back. They moved, roamed around, feeling her, feeling all of her. And then, like before, they reached for her face, moved across it and showed him what she looked like: her hair escaped from its restraints, her enormous eyes where near it lay a small smudge where a line of kohl had blurred. Her nose, delicate and small, her lips, delicate and all but.

All of her. He saw all of her, clear as day.

Throughout his exploration Si'a stood on legs that started to weaken at their knees. She refused to do anything less, to fold now that she'd managed to shepherd him from the dark and he'd brought forth from her a light like no other. Her breath hitched, catching in her throat as those lips caressed the skin along her clavicle and tenderness of her throat and the racing evidence of her pulse. His fingers traversed the line of her spine from the twin dimples where her buttocks met the small of her back to the sensitive nape of her neck and the line of her jaw. Each feature of her face and the fullness of her lips. Every bit of her slowly being memorized by him, seen by him in the only way he knew how without use of his implants. She wanted him to. She wanted him to see her, to know her, to feel her, taste her... Love her.

Si'a knew she was no longer of her own person, standing there at the cusp of being immortalized by memory, so close to erasing the last remaining line of demarcation left separating them as two entities. Her fingers left his hair only to trace the scars along his temples and down, past the band of the implants, to his jaw and neck, his stubble raking against heated flesh as he confessed to her in advance for the gentle sin he was about to commit. Her breath was caught in a gasp and her fingers found themselves curled against the strength of his shoulders when his lips and stubble found the pale, fine porcelain skin of one of her breasts. He'd done nothing and yet everything... Anticipation was slowly giving way to a sense of incineration in the most delectable of ways with the way heat lit low in her belly and settled in with an ache that demanded to be satiated by him and him alone. "I..." nope. Words were stilled. There was no room for them. Not here. Not now.

The fingers never stopped moving, but now they were no longer just exploring. They were caressing, inviting, playing, suggesting. Lifting locks of hair and stroking her with it. Moving slowly, sensually. And while he himself was trembling, his hands were steady and sure.

Anaxar seemed to sense when her strength began to run out, and he caught her, guided her to the floor and onto him, let me catch you when you fall I will always be there to catch you… Now they were lying on a heap of fallen clothes and sheets, with occasional touches of cold floor in between. Lying down, the height difference ceased to matter. He held her close, but lightly, and now allowed her to do her own exploring, let her set the pace.

Her mouth found his, that point of contact being everything and anything she could possibly want and more... Always more. Beneath her she could feel him breathing and the way his muscles moved, coiled, and released with every little movement. Si'a could feel that nervous energy building, the same way it inhabited every fiber of her being as she released his lips and pushed herself up, moving to set astride his lower belly. Around her, them, her hair fell almost like a veil as she bent over him. Her fingers, oh her fingers. They'd find their way back to the artwork of scars that spangled his abdomen, the very same ones she'd dared to touch that day in decon. Each wrinkle, each pucker, each striatum quickly became her favourite as she followed them, like roads, over his chest and to his heart. It would be there that her lips lay next, allowing them to feel him for a beat, maybe two, string and sure against them. That was home now. He was home now. Her feet and legs tangled in the pile of fabrics strewn beneath them, doing little to impede her desire but instead igniting it all the more with the reminder that she'd made this choice. Shifting her weight she let go of the breath she'd been holding, sitting up, and allowing herself to explore the circumference of his navel and the taught muscles of his Adonis belt that cradled such precious territory.

Hot and cold at the same time. Eager and shy. Burning desire and terror in equal measure. This was another balance point, the inverse of the first. The first time was after the handfasting, when it had been Si'a's life in the balance: life and death. This was its counterpart, between life and rebirth. What they were doing, what they had just done, what they were about to do, would transform both of them forever.

Though he couldn't see her now, the image of how she was that one time he had seen all of her was seared into his memory. Fingertips and lips followed the star chart of her skin, leading down and down. Softly now, gently…

Her own touches, soft and delicate, warming him, waking him, waking more in him, parts he rarely had explored before and which he thought would be gone forever. So much more than base stirrings of the flesh. An invitation, a promise.

It was a whimper more than anything else, the small sound of want that escaped from her lips as his hand slid down the length of her side to the toned Neverland of her thigh where it met her hip, and crossed over to uncharted territory between her legs. Si’a’s back arched as he found her, wanting more, rising to meet him, to bring herself closer to his touch and the sparks that flew at his behest. A single hand braced her, spreading its elegant fingers out over the expanse of his scarred abdomen as she fought to steer herself against the tide of sensation that threatened to steal away her carefully crafted control. “Anaxar?,” she exhaled his name in question of everything she was feeling as her head tipped back, baring her throat and taking from her the view of his face and the expressions she was coming to learn. His name… Her connection to him, her one worded way of begging him and exalting him in one breath, returned this time breathy and hitched.

Slowly, hold back for just a little while longer, slowly… She was so much smaller than he was, so… no, not fragile, but delicate, and if he didn't hold back he'd hurt her. And though pain in itself did not have to be a deterrent (with every heartbeat pulsing through his head making him feel that the useless headband of his implants was the only thing to keep it from exploding, this was a synergistic amalgamate born from pain and passion, transmuted into something which was so much more, agony and ecstasy indistinguishable from each other), there was a time and a place for everything, and this was neither the time nor the place. So delicate, so tender, he would have to be the guide here, but she would have to lead.

Si’a’s gaze found his face again, admiring it in the near dark. A glow from what she could only assume was some form of chronometer at his bed side acted as the only source of illumination and it was just enough that her keen eyes could make out the violet of a flush across his cheeks and his mouth parted, just barely, with a mix of concentration and pleasure. She needed him, to be his. Only his. Her free hand followed the one that stroked her, stilling it against her even though it killed her to do so. Torture. Sweet torture. Trepidation mixed steadily with overwhelming desire spurred on by the way the unmistakable press of his arousal fit against the juncture where the back of a thigh met her buttock. Inexperienced or not instinct was instinct. She knew. She knew he was letting her choose her path and set her pace, that maybe he’d come to recognize her chastity. She also knew that his extremely careful and gentle nature, regardless of that, was in no way tentative. Rather it was a promise of his power to be known that it was held back on a thin leash, a challenge and provocation made all the more remarkable for its lack of demand on her behalf. I’m yours, he said in the quiver of his body against her, only if you’ll have me… and she knew, right then, that she couldn’t possess his soul without losing her own.

She had expected to be the helpless one, the object of desire. Instead, she had felt him quiver with need, all of his strength carefully bound for fear of hurting her. Hers. Hers to rouse and touch, to command. Hers to unleash as she would. She also knew that it would be a fool’s errand to think that once she let him go, gave him that final permission, that he’d remain so placid and mild. He was a man, after all, and not a saint.

She chose to make that final leap, her thighs flexing to bring her forward enough to capture the seam of his mouth with her own and that movement and the curious, nervous little hand that had stilled his ministrations, was enough to capture the fire hot and satiny steel of him long enough to guide him to her. She gasped against his lips at the sudden shift in stimulation and feeling, at the knowledge of what she was doing, of what they were doing. What it meant for both of them. Arching against his insistence, her body shuddered and hips rocked as they became one. Her eyes were shut tight, her fingers on his belly dug against his flesh while those that had held him fell away and to find his. Her breaths were coming in little pants as she hovered close to him and that careful leash he’d placed on himself was undone by her will to worship him even with her exuberant unschooled uncertainty.

This. This. The point where the final contact was made, fully physical in all aspects, a complete merging. Passion flowing from the one to the other and back like waves cresting the shore, a fiery connection between them that went beyond touch, beyond dreams, encompassing the here and now, entwining more than two wrists, but two bodies becoming one. Tide flowing in and they were moving faster, there was no turning back now, no more holding back. His hands clenched around discarded clothes and strands of hair as the tide came in and swept them both away.

Heaven above, she could feel his heartbeat, and with that realization she knew she was lost in turbulent seas, threatening to capsize and run around, but she knew he’d be there to catch and guide her. More off, he’d be there to join her. Her eyes reopened, nothing more than slits shielded by heavy lashes, and peered at him in devoted curiosity and need. When she found the will to slowly straighten up again, resting her weight in the cradle of his pelvis and against his thighs, her legs were cast to tremors and his name a a gentle cry of her voice, looking for salvation. Si’a's body was in a state of flux as it battled both pleasure and temporary pain. It hurt to love him in the newness of the moment and the action, but it was a pain that was quickly being over taken by what could only be described as pleasure. Her body, her heart, her soul… All of it was his. All of it. It left her breathless, lightheaded, nervously euphoric.

One touch from her had woken him.

One kiss from her had made him dare to dream.

This act, this mutual sharing, this gift from her to him and him to her, shattered Anaxar between one heartbeat and the next and made him anew. And with the physical release came catharsis. As he arched back, his mouth opened and he voiced a silent scream, a silent howl of everything heart and soul could no longer contain.

(and during that moment that timeless heartbeat he could've sworn he saw through her eyes, saw himself reflected in those eyes but transformed, made into something new... something...)

And then the moment was past and there was this sweet silence, his skin and hers glued together with slick sweat, now it was her skin which was cooler than his and the contrast was a smaller form of ecstasy, and he sighed and the sigh turned into her name, "Si'a…" always "Si'a…" forever. He reached up to touch her again, yes, her face, yes, and this time the touch evoked not a shiver of anticipation but a slower, far deeper one, a reaffirming of a bond they now shared, knotted ribbons tying their souls together.

His voice, the velvety whisper of it, combined with the feather-like feeling of his fingers against her cheek, brought her back from some far off place of glowing. Back to him, back to the here and the now of him. The steadiness of his pulse as it began to slow, became her new focal point. It settled her, told her everything was as it should be. That she'd both found and granted salvation. The sight of his him, sated and spent, tugged at some new thing within her. His mouth was no longer tense, but rather full and succulent and calm. Calm. It was an almost overwhelming sense that joined hands with happiness about the same time she managed to convince herself to move and draw his hand from her face to her chest. She placed it over the point where her heart hammered against her, though she had some sense that he could feel her much in the same way she did him, joined the way they were, "I love you," she husked, finding the courage to speak. It was the first time she'd ever allowed such sentiment to be voiced, "I... I mean it. Every word, everything I've said. I love you, Anaxar."

"I love you too…" The words sounded too inadequate for all the things he wanted to say. "You are… you have my word, my vow. My heart. Everything." He was stripped of more than clothes alone, he rested beside her naked, without any shields, no longer vulnerable and afraid, but safe in the sanctuary of her embrace. "I love you, too…"

Si'a nosed closer to him as he spoke, her fingers starting to trace lazy circles along his belly, "Can I ask you a question?" Both of them were bare, vulnerable, lost and yet found. The ache was still there, but different... Pleasant. A reminder of him, the very essence of him.

"Always," Anaxar said, his voice quivering slightly at her slow, sensual touch. He idly reached out with one hand to pull the bottom sheet from his bed and spread it over Si'a's bare back. The temperature in his quarters was standard set lower than the rest of the ship, and now that they were lying still, he didn't want her to get cold.

She couldn't help but smile as he blanketed her. That was him, always the protector, always the savior. Always thinking ahead. "Does it ever dim at all?" She asked, the circles looping together, intertwining in much the same pattern in which Craig had laced ribbons around their wrists. "The want? The need?" The little star-child's words were in earnest, shy, but real.

Anaxar was quiet as he, once again, searched for the right words to express what he felt and thought. "It… changes," he said slowly, after awhile. "It can burn brighter than the brightest star, or it can just glow like embers in a winter fire, it can keep you warm when we are apart, it can bind us when we are close. It can change over time, become deeper, more intense… but dim? Vanish completely?" He shook his head, his antennae tickling her briefly. "No. I don't believe that. No."

"What about the desire?" Si'a queried, the circles stopping in favor of lines. Lines that traced the sensitive length of his antennae. At first there was hesitation to touch them, apprehension brought about by fear that she'd hurt him. They were the final frontier and quintessentially him. Soft. She'd almost expected them to be rigid and solid, but they were soft and pliant beneath her fingertips, and oddly warm. Especially where they vanished into the drifts of his hair.

"Ohhh…" a sound that was half sigh, half moan. He quivered under her fingers, from head to toes. "Ask me in a hundred years," he whispered, "and I'll let you know…"

"It's a deal." She hummed and pressing closer to bring their lips together. A hundred years from that very point, she'd ask him that same question. They'd be older, wiser, and maybe have lived enough to be able to formulate an answer. In the interim, especially there and now, the only answer she could think to formulate was 'no'. The desire, once awakened, seem to have no end in sight.

---

Lieutenant Anaxar Shran
Chief Science Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213-F

Lieutenant Si'a Dai'xun
Stellar Cartographer
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213-F

 

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