Title: First Times
Author: JC Sun
Email: valeanna1@aol.com
Size: 8K
Rating: NC-17
Codes: K/T
Summary: Athletic fun in the Jeffries tubes.

Warning: Fairly graphic sexual content.  *Not* for the kiddies.

*

First times, well--first times are first times are first times.  Doesn't 
matter that she slept with six of the eleven crew members on her previous 
mission, that she's lived most of the Kama Sutra, or that *he*--the innocent 
one, the good one, the pure one--has had more sex with more people than Tom 
Paris and one of lovers was an exhibitionist with a latex fetish.

Anyway.

First times are first times, and Lanna's the one who's blushing.

That's probably got more to do with the fact that there's a tiny droplet of 
sweat nestled in the hollow of his collarbone than with the fact that the 
half of navigation subconduits in beta section are going to blow in twelve 
hours due to an inexplicable Butzman-Wehr loop anomaly, but the only thing 
that she can think about how much she wants to lick that droplet of sweat off 
his collarbone.

It's either that, or she's remembering just what she was doing with that 
stylus last night, the stylus that he's got in his hand and (god help her), 
is nibbling on the eraser-end.  Sucking, tapping against his teeth, tiny soft 
bud of his pink tongue hanging three millimeters from the metal, when last 
night it was--it was--she had been on that chair, underwear on the floor, 
legs looped over the arms, head angling back, and mouth open, screaming his 
name, and her fingers, her fingers, but they weren't quite enough, so she 
reached out and took hold of the stylus an--

She shuts *that* memory off before it can make her blush.

Or, she would blush if it were possible for her skin complexion.  As it is, 
the edge of her ears turns a light crimson, and her cheeks darken 
half-a-shade.  Very small change, very subtle, you really can't tell, but, 
well, he's been watching her all evening.   It's a spectacular view from over 
here: he's memorized the shape of her ass against the black uniform, the line 
of her shoulders, and the faint curve of her breasts around her back. 

And then, his mouth goes dry when he realizes that she's staring at him with 
the same fierce intensity that he's using on her, that she's actually turned 
around --

Neither of them ever remembers just what happened.  A brush of the hand, a 
bump of the hips, or maybe, no action at all--just a sudden moment when need 
caught need, a moment when their eyes caught, and all of a sudden she's 
slammed up against the wall and trying to lick the tastebuds off his tongue 
and burrowing her hands into his ass all while he's tugging her tunic off her 
shoulders, yanking her undershirt over her head while she burrowing her 
greedy mouth into the side of his neck.  

He's having trouble with the elastic of her pants.  The fingers, the hands, 
everytime he comes close to sliding it off her hips, he gets distracted by 
some moan or whimper of his, so he fumbles, can't concentrate on moving her 
pants, and eventually, snarling with impateince, she digs sharp teeth cut 
into his neck.  While he's sucking in his breath and trying to cope with the 
sudden shift, she wriggles out of her pants, sensible black underwear and 
all, and winds her legs around his waist, letting him scoop an arm around her 
waist and push her back against the wall.  

Catching his hand, she laves her tongue across the finger tips, then drags it 
against the inside of her thighs.  She's so hot that she almost scalds his 
hand, and the gasp he lets out is almost as loud as hers.  He gives her 
little strokes, a gentle movement of the forefinger that makes her slide up 
and down against the wall, makes her booted feet dig into his hips. Warily, 
he slips a finger in, and when she growls, another, then a third so that 
she's writhing and moaning and twisting up at him with lust-glazed eyes that 
burn a hole straight down to his dick.  When he fumbles with the elastic on 
his pants, she abruptly leans forward so he practically falls into her, 
pressing her into the wall, then her hands come up around his head and dig 
into his shoulders, her open mouth latching onto his so that when she moans, 
he can feel it as a buzzing sensation in his mouth, so that when she sobs, 
it's a sudden tightening of mutual breath, and that when she comes, it's 
clenched and convulsing around his fingers and a few moments later, while 
she's still pressed up against the walls, he comes in her with cry that 
lingers in her ears for days afterwards.  

Immediately afterwards, though, he pulls out of her, and they fall apart.  He 
staggers back against the opposite wall while she just collapses, slides down 
the wall with a breathy sigh, coming to an exhausted looking rest on her 
discarded tunic.  She watches him with half-lidded eyes but says nothing.  
His arms are aching because it's such novel sensation to have her in his 
arms, one he's been lusting after for entirely too long to let go so soon.  
To distract himself, he focuses on trying to catch his breath. 

Outside, a pair of passers by is arguing. The ship volleyball tournament and 
something about practice schedules for the classical music quartet.  His 
heart skips a beat as he realizes that it's somebody he knows, somebody he 
practices with everyday, and *her* guts lurch as she realizes it's somebody 
she plays volleyball with.  Maybe they're even on her team.  She's probably 
seen them, shared equipment with them. 

And then he lets out his breath.  

She looks over at his fingers, still wet from her, and her teeth catch over 
the bottom of her lip, she watches at him, he watches at those with the 
pupils swollen all out of proportion in the red-half light of the tubes, and 
time holds still while she takes his fingers into her mouth.

First times, first times--

Second times.

*end

I told you it was athletic. Feedback to anasile@aol.com


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