(no subject)

[notabricklayer]

It's late afternoon and warm up in the hayloft, the sounds of the animals below muffled to almost indistinction, dust-motes dancing in the ambient light.

It would be a fantastic place for a nap.

It is an even better place to one space-faring doctor to re-make the close acquaintance of a beguiling woman he met in a bar.

Or at least, that's how it would read if it were a romance novel.

Comments

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

Olga would laugh to hear it described such. Barns have long been a refuge for her, and not just in her owl form. In times of war, they're excellent places to take sanctuary, with both water and warmth.

And here, now, feeling his hands moving on her skin, drinking from his lips again, it feels like another sort of sanctuary. A different kind of warmth, one no less life sustaining for its rarity.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

Bones would protest primly (if only to rile her) that he's only rising to her challenge (http://community.livejournal.com/milliways_bar/23388250.html). This would be a blatant lie - that challenge did not include questing hands delving underneath her shirt to trace patterns on the skin underneath, perhaps writing suggestions for later.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

She pulls back, smiling against his mouth, her own hands curled against his chest.

"Better," she breathes, leaning in to steal another soft kiss. "I was beginning to wonder."

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"Didn't want to rush you, darlin'." He protests, mildly, his hands soothing down the curve of her spine.

Blame his grandpappy - he'd been told repeatedly (usually in the midst of some other lecture) that just because a lady said yes once, does not mean she's said yes for every time in the future.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

"See what I mean? Sweet."

One hand slips up around his neck, her fingertips weaving his hair, teasing along his scalp.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"Prudent. I wouldn't want you to geld me like one of those fellows below." He cracks, with a lopsided grin to accompany his teasing. Unconsciously he leans into her hand, enjoying the feel of her fingers.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

She laughs, low and quiet, her voice a rich alto.

"You think I would geld you for daring to steal a kiss?"

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

Something darkens in his mood -

(I wouldn't have said anything, Captain, if...)

- but he does his best to shove it away. She is not his problem, not right at the moment. She will be again later, her and all the rest of the crew, but not right now.

"I'd hope you'd make sure your opinions are known and taken into account."

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

The shift would be obvious even if she couldn't sense it in other ways. Her nails graze over his skin, and her body shifts against his in an unmistakeable expression of her opinion.

"Always, Lyonya." Another kiss, slow and hungry. "If I did not want you, I would not be here."

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

Rand and her troubling admission are abruptly forgotten for the moment - he has a wonderful ability to focus on the right now, drilled into him from years of training... though perhaps this wasn't exactly what his old medical school professors had been thinking of.

"I will endeavor," he murmurs against her skin as his teeth graze along her jaw, "Not to disappoint, then." He finds an earlobe and traps it between his teeth gently, sucking at the captured flesh.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

Her eyes flutter closed and there's a distinct hitch in her breath. Her grip on him tightens, and her chin tips up, inviting him to yes, please, yes continue that line of exploration.

"Missed you." And this, good Christ did she miss this.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He mentally files that away under the heading 'very good ideas', and proves he can be a good officer, obeying orders promptly. Down the jugular groove, and her collar bones he knows so well. But he was challenged to greet her properly, and so he goes to pay equal attention to the other side of her neck, examining and making sure she hasn't done it any harm in the time he's been gone.

"Missed you too, darlin'.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

Her legs tangle with his, soft sighs telling him exactly where his kisses are most welcome. Her hands skim down, searching down over his shoulders, fretting at his shirt, wanting his skin beneath her palms.

She tries to keep her breathing steady, tries to just focus on the feel of his lips and his tongue, letting the moment unfold at its own pace.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He's wearing the body-suit under the scrub top, but the seals holding it together are easy enough to undo. He hums softly at the feel of her hands, her talented, beautiful hands on his skin, and briefly wonders again how he got this lucky.

Her shirt, he decides, is inconvenient. Thus, in the moments he takes to kiss her again, he starts working it up and off her body.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

There's a low chuckle under her breath, and she lifts her arms, letting him strip the faded knit top over her head. That accomplished, she returns to the very important task of exploring the side of his neck with soft lips and the gentle graze of her teeth. Her hands caress over his ribs, revelling in the warmth and the solidity of his body.

His scent is intoxicating, and she nuzzles up to the hollow beneath his ear, her tongue trailing wet spirals over his skin.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He lets his head tip back, his groan rumbling deep in his chest. He would happily let her do that all day long, even when she edges into areas the bone-deep bruises haven't yet surfaced. Luckily his hands don't need his eyes' direction to explore the delicious softness of her breasts, his hands unconsciously matching the rhythm of her tongue.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

She doesn't ask this time, just pulls the energy from the air around them and smooths it into his skin, turning time forward to speed the healing. Her hands massage away the tension, slow and steady.

Her body rocks forward into his touch, but she doesn't break contact. She has all day, and she lets him tell her exactly what he wants, letting him lead the dance this time, curious to see where he'll take them.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He recognizes the warmth, the sudden flush easing away the pain. It makes his already complicated feelings for her even more so, but he cannot find it in him to complain. Far from it - he wasn't looking forward to the days of guilty looks he was going to get from his captain.

What he wants from her... what he doesn't want would be a shorter list, but he's patient. Her body is intoxicating, doing away with regular, rational thought. He rocks back against her, eventually pushing her back against the blankets, his eyes dark.

Does she have any idea, the affect she has on him?

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

She yields with a soft sigh, welcoming the weight of his body, welcoming the rising urgency in his touch. Grey eyes study his face, trying to read the subtle lines, to ken the deeper pull she feels beneath the surface heat.

It's been so long since she's been with anyone other than Gesar, longer still since she's had a repeat performance.

Her hands smooth down his back, and on the return trip, he can feel the light pressure of her nails. Oh she has an idea, all right. Still, she has the patience of the hunter, watching, listening, learning everything there is to know about him. Her lips part and her chin tips back, her body aligning with his, just so.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He honestly cannot help the whine that escapes him - if he could stop to think about it, he would have no idea how she could already know him so well, how she can get his body to respond so strongly.

Of course, if he could stop to think about it, he would not be here, arching his back and dropping his head down to lap at that hollow between her breasts hungrily.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

Her eyes fall closed, and her fingers rake through his hair, urging him on. Each pass of his lips draws a soft, shuddering cry from her. She shifts beneath him, restless, trying to keep still and failing utterly.

She breathes him in, drifting on a slow wave of sensation, keenly aware of every place he's touching her, pinning her to the earth and painting her skin with the heat of his mouth and his hands.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He loves those sounds. He truly does, his answering smile curling against her skin. He steadily refuses to hurry, languidly savoring the taste of her skin, her scent drowning him. He shifts his weight to one arm, reaching down the length of her body with the other, smoothing the palm of his hand against her, pushing firm against the soft, worn cloth of her trousers.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

She feels that sweet pressure and bites her lower lip to stifle the groan that rises. Her grip in his hair tightens and her hips rise off the blankets, grinding against the heel of his hand.

She's trying to stay quiet, knowing that they could be heard by anyone down below. Somehow that knowledge makes this all the more arousing. She laughs, low under her breath, and whispers,

"Let me take off my boots."

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

His smile turns into a shameless shit-eating grin, before he rolls up and off of her.

"Let me instead?" The question is asked with that same grin, as he trails a hand slowly down the outside of her closer leg.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

Her eyes narrow a bit, but that pleased little smirk still ghosts across her features. She sits up on her elbows and lets him lift her foot.

"Such a gentleman."