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Feeling the Heat

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Jupiter has always thought of space as vast, and empty, and colder than a proverbial witch's tit (as Vladie says, at least out of the hearing of anyone who might smack him around the ear for using profanity).

Turns out, she might have been wrong about that. Okay, the first two might still be accurate as far as she knows right now (and space is weird, so she's definitely hedging her bets), but she couldn't be more wrong about the last one, at least as far as Caine's small ship is concerned.

It's hot in space, a hell of a lot hotter than Jupiter ever expected. Hotter than hell, and she's pretty sure she's destined to go there given her current, um, activities. She's burning up, the breath catching in her throat with each harsh pant, and the air is weirdly flat tasting. It's dry, too, which isn't exactly helping with the whole panting thing, and it's got to have something to do with how frequently it's been recycled. Caine has tried to explain it once or twice, or seven times. It's not that she hasn't been listening - it's just that he's adorable when he's so sincere and serious.

So sue her.

No, don't sue her. These days she's actually worth something.

But she can't think about that now, can't think about anything but how goddamned, gloriously hot it is. Sweat is running down between her breasts, sliding slickly over her skin and leaving silvery, salty trails in its wake, and sweat has also darkened Caine's hair, flattening it against his scalp. It's a weird look for him.

She reaches down, running her fingers through the strands, spiking it up to something more familiar; Caine moans, the satisfied, needy sound reverberating through her, sending little spikes of sensation in their wake.

Oh, God.

Her thighs are straining, the artificial gravity taking its toll as she tries to steady herself. Or maybe it's just the feel of Caine's tongue pressing against her clit, sliding along her slick folds, that's leaving her feeling like she's both weighty and weightless, ready to fall or fly free.

And hot. Really fucking hot.

Really hot fucking. Jesus, sometimes she amuses herself.

Caine's tongue curls, sliding around her clit as he sucks it into his mouth, and she loses track of what she was thinking, loses track of everything except how his mouth feels on her. The wall's right in front of her, shining silver in the cabin's dim light, and she reaches out, braces herself against it with one hand, the other still buried in Caine's hair, and grinds down.

Caine whimpers, his fingers clutching at her thighs, tightening with need, and it sends another hot flush of need through her. She's supposed to be doing something right now, something other than riding Caine's face like her life depends on it, but it's hanging just out of reach, like the orgasm that's tantalising her.

What is it?

Oh, yeah. Now she remembers.

"Good... good, boy."

The words stutter out of her, and Caine's lips curl up in a smile. She can feel the curve of it against her skin, in the eager way he laps at her opening. She doesn't know how the hell she knows, but she'd bet almost much everything she owns that he's pretty damned satisfied with himself right now, and she owns a lot. The whole damned planet, for a start.

She's kind of pleased that he's pleased, if that makes sense, but still. That's not in the rules, not exactly, so she strokes her fingers through Caine's hair again, and then she catches hold of the short strands and tugs them sharply, dragging his face away from her.

Her body pretty much hates her right now, but there are rules.

This time Caine gasps, his breath puffing against her opening and sending a shiver through her. The muscles of his arms and shoulders flex beneath her calves and ass as he bucks up into her, the sounds he's making growing more frantic, needier. Hotter, if she's honest. But she holds him down - pins him down - keeps him trapped with thighs that are burning as brightly, as fiercely as the rest of her.

She waits him out, waits until his eyes finally meet hers, and then she raises one eyebrow. As expressions go, it feels ridiculous on her face, but it seems to do it for Caine, who subsides with another whimper.

"I'll be good," he murmurs, so sweet and eager to please her. Please her, not please himself, not when they play this particular game. "Please."

He's so pretty when he begs, all (literal, probably) puppy dog eyes. His mouth and chin are wet, slick and shiny with her spend, and she wants nothing more than to push his face back into her pussy and ride him until she comes all over him.

But there are rules, and if he can't break them, neither can she.

She waits another beat, just one, although it stretches out for an eternity, her pussy already clenching in anticipation before she finally gives him what he wants - what they both want - and lowers herself down again.

He buries his face in her, those soft, needy sounds escaping him again, but he's more restrained this time, more focused on her pleasure than his own. His tongue moves with more purpose, finding those spots that have her gasping, that send sharp, shards of pleasure rushing through her. God, she needs this, they both do. She needs to be lifted up after the day she's had, dealing with petty bureaucrats, and he needs this to make him feel like he belongs, to ground him in the reality of his place in her life.

It's pretty fucking ironic given how high they are in the sky. He could go anywhere in the universe in this ship she bought him, and all he wants is to spend the rest of his life between her thighs.

She's close, so close now, and Caine can sense it, his fingers tightening their grip on her thighs in silent supplication. She knows what he needs - oh, God, she knows what they both need - and she gives it to him, sliding her fingers back into his hair to tug harder, but not pull him away. Not this time.

He's whimpering again, the sound in rhythm with his breaths, with her heartbeat. She grinds back down against him, spreading her slickness over his nose, mouth, chin until her pleasure is all he can smell, all he can taste. His tongue slides into her, around her, dances over her opening before he sucks her clit back into his mouth.

God, yes, there.

Maybe she says it out loud. Who the hell knows, and Caine isn't saying anything. Not that he can say anything with a mouth full of her pussy. She can barely breathe, the pleasure building in her, higher and higher. The sounds he's still letting out - muffled, pleasured noises, so open, so helpless, so hers - are stoking the fire burning within her, fuel on the flames until they spiral out of control, consuming her.

She comes apart, seeing stars as a wave of pleasure rushes through her, leaving her shaking and gasping for air in its wake.

Fuck.

Caine is still lapping at her, still making those needy little noises, but it's too much for her over-sensitized clit. She pushes his face away again, her palm firmly on his forehead as she levers herself off him, her knees shaking.

He lets her go reluctantly, loosening his grip and then opening his hands, his fingers sliding along her skin as she collapses in a sweaty, satisfied heap beside him.

"Good boy," she gasps, her heart still racing, and he grins at her, sudden and sure, so fucking smug about it she could just kiss him, kiss that delighted look off his face.

There's nothing stopping her, not now, and so she does. He opens his mouth to her, so utterly pliant, so sweet and submissive, that it makes her want him all over again.

Well, the spirit wants him anyway. The flesh is a little weak at the moment; right now, she's thoroughly fucked, pun definitely intended.

She settles for kissing him again, loving the way he melts into her. Two hundred and thirty pounds of highly trained warrior-slash-puppy, and he's all hers. God.

He still tastes like her, and she licks at his mouth, his chin, enjoying the low rumble of laughter that escapes him. He doesn't laugh often enough, at least not out loud. Not as far as she's concerned. In his eyes, yes - there's a world of amusement in Caine's eyes, a kind of banked down joy when he's around her that she glories in - but not out loud.

It's just another strike against the universe as far as she's concerned.

He pushes into her, a mindless little movement as she explores his mouth, and he's hard against her thigh, already leaking pre-come. She can feel the wetness of it against her skin, and reaches down to slide her fingers around the head of his dick, teasing him just to hear him moan, this time feeling the vibrations of it against her mouth instead of her cunt.

Such a good boy. He deserves a treat. He deserves all of the treats.

"Gimme a minute," she murmurs, and he nods, settling back on the bed on his side, his dick jutting out in front of him as he watches her push herself to her feet with worshipful eyes. That look is never going to get old. She's not much for the 'Your Majesty' crap, at least from anyone but him, but damn, if he doesn't make her feel like a queen when he looks at her like that.

His queen.

Her thighs are aching, and the first few steps are a little stiff - in the best way - but thankfully the drawer isn't far from the bed. She pulls out the prophylactic spray and what passes for lube in outer space before heading back in his direction, watching as his eyes light up, a smile crinkling around the edges of them. She waves the bottle of prophylactic at him with a smile of her own, and he rolls obediently onto his back, shuffling until he's settled, knees slightly raised.

All the better to brace her with. He really is a good boy, or he's been whatever the galactic equivalent of a boy scout is - always prepared.

The spray's a little cold when it comes out of the bottle - she knows that from testing it on her hand, the first time they ever used it - but he doesn't twitch. Instead, his eyes drift closed for a moment, bliss in his expression, and he bites at his lip when she replaces the spray with the lubricant, using her fingers this time to spread it over his length.

They'll need it.

When he's lubed up to her satisfaction - and she may have taken her time about it, enjoying the play of expressions across his face as her fingers stroke him, the way his muscles fight to stay still just to please her, not push up into her hand the way he wants to - she straddles him, catching hold of his dick and easing it into her.

The first few inches slide in easily; after that, Caine's dick thickens towards the base. She bites at her lip, enjoying the stretch, the lube making it much, much easier. She still takes her time, bracing her hands on his chest as she rocks back then forwards again, over and over, taking a little more of him in each time and letting herself feel the fullness.

The sweat's running down her body again, and her legs are back to shaking from the effort of holding herself up over him. But he's worth the effort. She lowers herself, inch by inch until he's buried in her as deeply as she can take.

And she can take all of him now; she only stops when his balls are against her ass.

Caine groans as she tightens her cunt, testing that fullness, letting herself feel it - really feel it. It feels good, more than good. It feels fucking fantastic, and she curls her fingers, biting back on a groan of her own as her nails dig into Caine's skin.

He stays still for her, even though he's trembling. Stays absolutely still for her and lets her play.

She pushes herself up again, letting a couple of inches of him slide out, and then down, slowly, so slowly that Caine groans again, the sound strangled as his neck arches. His hands rise, automatically reaching for her, at least until he remembers the rules and places them firmly back on the bed, his fingers gripping the sheets instead.

She smiles at him, letting him see it when he opens his eyes, automatically seeking her out, automatically seeking her approval. She lets him bask in it for a moment before she moves again, sliding more of him out this time, then taking him all the way in. The pace she eventually works up to is brutal, but she can take it - they both can, Caine's hands still twisted in the sheets and her fingernails digging crescents into his flesh.

She's close again, so close, and she reaches for one of his hands, pulling it up and pushing it against her stomach. He takes the hint - of course he does, he's such a good boy, and she gasps that out as his thumb finds her clit, rubbing hard as she rocks, slides, fucks his brains out. Good boy, and he bucks up into her harder every time she says it, biting at his lip, his face contorting as he spasms, finally coming inside her.

The feel of his dick thickening, the knot starting to form just inside her cunt, takes her over the edge as well. She collapses against him, his arms now coming up automatically to catch her, hold her against him because it's allowed now, because it would be cruel to deny him this. His thighs come up as well, pushing the knot further into her as she shudders, pushing back. She's spread out over him, wide open in a way she's never let herself be with anyone else, and the feel of the rough hair above his dick against her clit is almost too much to bear.

Almost.

She's panting as she comes down from that high, Caine's sweat slick against her skin where they're joined. It will take a while for the swelling of the knot to subside, and she makes a sleepy sound, tightening her body around it again just to feel the shiver that runs through him and the low laugh that follows in its wake.

In a few minutes, she'll feel like moving again, although she'll have to be careful. But if she's careful, keeps her movements small, she can use his knot to bring herself off again, let the pressure against the tight bundle of nerve endings that form her G-spot take her over the edge. She'll come once, maybe twice, before Caine's dick can finally slip free of her, and he'll let her, help her along with his fingers on her clit.

If she's careful.

But right now, right in this moment, she's content to enjoy the heat.

The end