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Com. Ivanova, Capt. Neyes | "Snowflakes and Star Fall" pt 2

Posted on 242003.28 @ 23:17 by Commodore Rochelle Ivanova & Captain Landon Neyes

Mission: Genesis

WARNING: NSFW







Reaching for the bottle in Rochelle's hand, Landon pulled it gently from her grasp and leaned to place it down beside his own on the coffee table. If they’d taken the chance to observe the twin bottles, they’d have realized that their closeness deeply imitated the position of their owners.

"I could arrange more of this, you know," he said with a smile, tucking that damnably unruly lock of hair back behind her left ear. It was just one of many things he loved about her. Just one of many things that made her undeniably alive and perfect.

At a loss of understanding just what was transpiring, or perhaps in a sign of surrender, Rochelle blindly held out her hand with the bottle caps exposed in her tiny open palm.

The Trill looked down at them for a second, then took them from her, tossing them in the direction of the coffee table. While she couldn’t tear herself away from his eyes to watch their progress, she could hear the sharp plink as one managed to hit the table, and the thud and skitter as the other hit the floor and slid somewhere out of sight. What she could see, was the way his brow crinkled as he looked upon her still extended palm, noticing the way it was marked and reddened. The caps’ sharp edges had left welts in the wake of her desperate grip on them.

Landon’s head shook. She could practically hear him pondering what it was that she was thinking and how it was that he hadn’t noticed what she was doing to herself. His thumbs caressed her palms, soothing out the marks and she watched the way his fingers pressed into her flesh, massaging and circling over the rises of her hand before guiding it to his mouth and brushing a kiss against the skin he’d set about healing.

A gentle tug in his direction later, she found herself in his arms once more. This time her hands were empty, allowing them to press flat against the expanse of his back while he held her close with one of his own and lazily stroked along her spine with the other. It was decidedly a much better set up. Warmer, more intimate, more real... The embrace said more about who they were and what they’d accomplished than any simple, platonic little hug.

Together, they stood in a silence, loving instead of fighting as he gently and slowly rocked them back and forth, as if slow dancing to a tune only they could hear.

“Much more preferable to arguing,” he murmured.

She hummed softly in agreement.

There were those that stumbled down the path of their lives, tripping over the bumps, slipping on the stones. Others crawled down it, so afraid of any hazards along the trail they were never able to look up from it. The lucky ones walked, enjoying the view, mindful of what they may come to pass but hardly crippled by it.

Landon ran. As hard and fast as he possibly could. Everyday. Blindly. Refusing to be lured by the scenery as it blurred past him, always focusing on what he might discover further down. For so long he’d stopped for nothing and no one. Those that had attempted to slow him down, were pushed aside. Those that couldn’t keep up, were left behind.

He was alone. Untouchable.

Until suddenly… There she was. A barrier placed in his way by destiny or chance and he ran into her with all the subtlety of a nuclear blast. Rochelle had stood her ground, brushing off the dust. The devastation known as Landon Neyes had hardly fazed her.

Until it did.

For so long she’d told herself she was over him, that he was a figment of the past - but there in his arms in the aftermath of yet another brutal fight - one savage enough it had sent Tr’Bak running for cover - she felt light headed. The spinning sensation only intensified when he gradually bent to bury his face against her neck, his nose glancing over the tendon that ran from just beneath her ear down to her collarbone, exploring, nuzzling. Then his lips, still cool from his beer, suddenly pressed against her heated skin and hovered there.

Rochelle sucked in a sharp breath, surprised by the unexpected contact and the sensation of heat and desire it sent shooting along every nerve. It was something so foreign to her current concept of the two of them and it took everything she had to pull away and look at him, watching as his hands trembled as he reached up to stroke her face. Her heartbeat quickened as his fingers lightly brushed over her cheek and along the length of her jaw and neck, feeling the way they shook against her skin in a manner she found endearing, reassuring… And terrifying.

She should have consumed more of her beer, taken the edge of her own nerves that had suddenly coiled in the pit of her stomach like a ball of lead. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out where this particular encounter was going. When he leaned in to bring his lips to hers, her eyes closed and she kept them closed even though he retreated after the lightest of touches.

There was the sweet, imperfect rapture of anxiety that came along with anticipation - a thrill she hadn’t felt in the longest of times. Would the next kiss be just as light and chaste? Would it be thick and needy? Would he endeavor to consume her? Was he waiting for her to make the next move? Did he understand what it was she was waiting for?

She could feel him close to her, feel his breath dance across the freckled bridge of her nose as he looked at her. In her own nervousness, she ran her tongue along her bottom lip, tasting him there… All Landon and snow and the soft tang of beer. Then she froze, realizing that he would have seen that - the way that she, once more denied of him, had reached for the taste of him.

Landon nearly chuckled. Any other time he would have provoked her with any number of slick comments - but they had no place between them now. Instead he found himself cupping her face, stroking his thumb across her bottom lip and tracing the path her tongue had just taken.

Rochelle’s whole body focused on that contact, on the way she imagined she could feel the ridges of his fingerprints brushing across her and she recalled, with a tingling in her palm, the way he had caressed the welts from her skin. Her tongue darted out, sweeping over the pad of his thumb and he paused its movement, letting her draw it into her mouth and run her tongue across the tip. She could feel the sharp point of a hangnail and the rugged roughness of his cool skin - constant reminder of his elegant, capable hands that she’d watched for so long hold beer, command a ship, cradle their child… Love her… She could hear the long, wavering breath he released, feel it as it brushed over her heated skin. It made her shiver against him.

It was almost more than Landon could take, inspiring him to close the gap between them and press his body tightly to hers. In turn, Rochelle released his thumb and opened her eyes, instantly being met with a look from him that sent a lightning-like crack of heat through her lower belly. This time, when he brought his mouth to hers, his kiss was anything but light and delicate. If anything it was possessive and desperate, giving her the taste of him she craved.

Again she shivered, returning the delectable fire of his kiss and reveling in the heat of being pressed flush against him.

“Do you love me, Rochelle?” Landon asked her, his voice a thick and thready whisper against her lips.

She tried, in vain, to capture his lips with hers only to find that he moved just out of reach, denying her the satisfaction until he received his answer, “Do you doubt that I do?” She averted his question with one of her own. It was her last line for defense, gossamer as it was, and he saw through it just as easily.

His fingers, even as they spoke, were insinuating their way beneath the waistband of her too-large sweats, coaxing them easily off her hips as he stroked softly at the silken skin beneath. She sighed in a combination of mounting frustration and pleasure.

“I want to hear you say it.” Another careful tug sent her pants pooling about her ankles, leaving her bare to him from the waist down and it was all he could do to coax his touch higher rather than lower, tracing infinity loops along her rib cage as he gathered her shirt up and away from her tender body. Listening intently, he could hear as her breathing changed, became shallower and more labored beneath his touch and insistence. Each reaction, each shiver, each shift of tone stood out as proof that he not only had her attention, but that he still had it in ways that mattered. That she hadn’t changed or completely closed off to him. That she was still very much his.

More than anything, he wanted her to want him, to love him. To prove, finally, that his patience hadn’t been for naught.

“I do. I love you, Landon.” Rochelle tried to say it as though she were just stating the obvious, like, ‘There’s no such thing as bats in the jefferies tubes, Landon,’ but somehow her need for oxygen and release undermined her ability to remain cool.

“Good, because I love you.” He leaned down, kissing her again as he continued to gather up and work to rid her of that damnable shirt. His hands brushed gently over her breasts, retreating only to tug the offending, body warmed fabric up over her head. His efforts were rewarded by the way her body arched forward to meet him and the sound of her little gasp before he recaptured the sweet territory of her mouth and pulled her hard against him. Oh, how he reveled in the luxury of her sweet, resilient little body against his. The long missed feeling left Landon wanting to reimprint her on him as she had been imprinted on every other part of his being. Her mark was on his heart, his mind, and his soul. From psyche to bones, his very cells read: ‘Rochelle was here’, and he wanted it no other way.

His hands were skimming along her body, remembering through touch the soft, silky skin of her abdomen, the little dip of her belly button, the ultra-femine curve of her waist - Gods alive… She was creamy, warm velvet under his palms and fingers. He was only made aware of her usually dexterous fingers laboring to undo the little buttons of her shirt when the low sound of her voice growling something to the tune of “come on, come on…” broke through to his ears.

Landon almost laughed, but this was far too serious, far too essential. Rochelle fumbling with his buttons, making noises of frustration - never had he ever encountered that particular situation with her before and it was endearing right up to the point that she gave up and yanked the shirt apart. Buttons pinged across the living room like runaway popcorn, revealing her want to feel his heated skin against her again, now. Right now. Very now. But she wasn’t sated long before desperation for more rose again and she groped for his belt buckle, swiftly undoing it with far more tactile grace than she’d displayed when it came to the topic of his discarded and destroyed shirt.

It was Landon’s turn to gasp when she slid her hand between the two of them, stroking the insistent evidence of his arousal. “Roc…” He hissed, stepping out of his pants as he backed her up against the wall that stood between the living room and the kitchen. It forced her breath from her as much as it forced her to end that particular brand of touch, but she could and would live with that sacrifice.

“Not here, not where --”

“Fuck him.” The Trill growled hotly against her neck.

“But--”

“I don’t care.” Later he may groan, maybe even blush, at the thought of ravishing the woman within earshot of the damn Romulan. It wasn’t like him to want to share her in any capacity, but the Gods knew he’d already done enough of that. A hand came up to cover the little mark between her breasts that proved she hadn’t been lying when she admitted to having taken another lover.

Almar.

He could have snorted at the thought, instead it sent a fresh course of hot desire roiling through his veins.

While it should have incited anger and jealousy, the sight of it coupled with the feeling of her naked body against him quelled whatever pain he may have felt. Her pulse was fast and hard against his chest, her breathing quick and slightly labored by her arousal and the consistent level of anxiety that anticipation brought hand in hand. All of it solidly screamed in evidence of one important thing: She was alive… She was so very alive and so very his in that fated moment. Swallowing the knot that formed in his throat, Landon closed his eyes and nosed beneath the damp veil of her fiery mane, resting his lips on the delicate shell of her ear. A knee slipped between hers, allowing him to marvel at the way she shifted against him to grant him the access he desired.

“What are you thinking?” He whispered against her skin. The hand that had pressed itself between her breasts slid low, sweeping little circles across her belly before running across her hip to cradle her.

Each touch sent fresh pangs of need deep within her core, left her near breathless and trembling with desire, “What you said before. We don’t have all the time in the world.”

The hand stopped its movement and she felt his chest rise with a sigh against her. It wasn’t a frustrated sigh, rather a warmly emotional one that was uniquely Landon. Her gentle, loving Landon.

“We only need now.” Landon’s voice was low, steady and full of arousal as he replied. His hands were in motion again, running up her ribs and over her shoulder blades, clutching and touching her as if he were certain she was just another dream and would soon melt away. He could feel her shiver, hear her hum, as he traced back along the length of her bare spine, stopping only to circle the twin dimples just above her buttocks. He had missed her, all of her, so damn much. How long had it been?

There wasn’t time for math.

Dipping lower, his hands cradled the firm roundness of her pert little rear, easily hoisting her as he took his place between her thighs. Rochelle needed no other encouragement to wrap her legs around his hips. Her body arched away from the wall, encouraging and pleading with him to take her.

And he did.

The shift of her hip, the arch of her back, the way she rose to meet him sent him groaning into the perfumed thickness of her hair as he flexed his hips and joined her, inch by aching inch. In return, she squeezed her eyes shut as his body invaded hers, only blowing out her next breath when he was fully inside.

It was there, pressed against and within her quivering body, that he paused allowing her to adjust to him and giving himself the chance to savor the familiar sensation of being one with the woman he undeniably loved. He could feel the warmth of her gasp and the release of her breath wash against his Adam’s apple when he basked in the supple heat of her.

"Rochelle, look at me," he begged and she opened her eyes to meet his. They were large and dark and stormy and filled with arousal and a billion other emotions he couldn’t quite define. In essence, they were beautiful and deep. More. He could feel her fingers gripping at his shoulders, kneading his flesh in further demand of him - and he had no desire to deny her. “I promised..." He gasped for breath against the electrifying sensation of being one with her again, "That I would love," A sharp roll of his hips gave them what they both wanted; sheathing him completely for a second time, "Honor," and then a third, "And protect you and I intend to keep that damn promise." and a fourth before melting away into a cadence that spoke volumes about the conflict of emotion between them and the celebration of being reunited… Of being alive.

Eye contact was nearly impossible for Rochelle to maintain and speaking was simply out of the question, no matter how badly she wanted to respond to him with words. They simply wouldn’t come, at least not in ways that sound in any way intelligible. Her eyelids continuously threatened to fall and squeeze shut, begging her to simply be carried away by the intensity of what Landon had created. He asked for her to look at him, to listen to him, to follow him on that new leg of their journey.

On the one hand, there was the undoubted arousal and pleasure coupled with the intense need for release. Things physical and tangible and real that would seek their own level. On the other hand, there lay the undeniable welling and conjuring of emotions that had been tamped down, shackled, and forbidden. Things that could not be ignored or refused or easily refuted or denied now that they had been allowed to rise up in rebellion. Things she could easily see mirrored back at her each and every time she focused her gaze through her lashes. Things that demanded response, that demanded of her more than her physical self.

Things that demanded her heart. Her soul. Her honesty and integrity.

Rochelle was vaguely aware of one of his palms slapping against the wall beside her head, his fingers curling against the lacquered wood in an attempt to find some form of anchor. There was no ability to control the way her mouth once again found his, or the way the fingers of one of her hands tangled in his wet, disheveled hair while the other clung desperately to him. Nor was she in control of herself as her heels dug into the backside of his thighs, refusing him the chance to find any other safe harbor from the storm they’d created.

“I love you,” She finally rasped against his mouth in a heated pant, her brows knitting tight against the familiar feel of imminent release tingling and surging along her nerves, “I need you.” To some those words would have felt paltry, perhaps pithy. In any other situation she’d have agreed and replaced them with something far more verbose and eloquent. Landon knew as much, but he didn’t need to hear some grandiose overture. He needed to hear that raw, beautiful confession. The one that didn’t need data extrapolated from it. The one that didn’t need a verbal answer as much as it needed action. The knowledge imparted was enough to make his heart skip, knowing that she was as much home as she was alive.

Like a building in the process of demolition, in status before it collapses in on itself, they were still for a long moment. Then the edifice their bodies ade crumbled together in a symphony drowned out by the joining of their lips. It was as violent as it was downright elegant, leaving them in a tangle of arms and legs at the base of that wall after Landon’s knees went weak from the intensity and exertion of what had transpired. Rochelle was left delightfully limp astride his lap, still pressed against him and ensnared in his possessive and protective embrace.

“It’s settled,” He puffed softly against her ear, his eyes lazily closed as he basked in the afterglow.

“What is?” She almost didn’t want to ask, almost certain she knew the answer.

The Trill’s lips found the round of her shoulder, dropping a feather soft kiss to her skin, “You’re not fighting this alone.”

He could almost feel the shape of her wry little smile as it tiredly blossomed across her mouth. It didn’t take much to imagine, after all he’d seen it more times than he could count. “No.” Her head shook lightly where it rested against the crook of his neck, “I suppose I won’t. Someone made a promise they need to keep.”

---

Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213-F

Captain Landon Neyes
Retired
Starfleet

 

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