Naya was laying in the dark of her cabin, the soft hum of the ship's engine lulling her to sleep. Then there was a loud metal click. Her cabin door groaned open, followed by a second click as her cabin door locked closed. She heard the slight swish of cotton pants; standard-issue. Only one other crew member was this quiet.
She didn't jump, there had to be a reason this person was in her room, but it wasn't until her guest landed on her bed that she opened her eyes to assess who or what was happening. Amos slipped under her sheets directly in front of her, his body close, but not touching her own. She wasn't really surprised to see him; they had kind of been attached at the hip lately, working on one thing or another. But now he was shirtless, and while naked was pretty normal for him, it was somewhat unsettling up close. Personal. And then there were his loose drawstring pants.
"Amos, what are you doing? I gave you my pass-key in case you needed something. Not because I was looking for a booty call." It wasn't callous, merely inquiring. But if she was being honest with herself, her heart rate had nearly doubled in the space of few dewy breaths.
"I do need something." His eyes were dark. They're always dark. Amos has one setting. Dark.
She was fighting the compulsion to let her eyes roam over his chest, but settled on keeping them locked on his face, suffering his nudity in her peripheral vision. He still wasn't saying anything but neither was she. At least she had fatigue and near sleepiness as her excuse. Amos on the other hand did not need an excuse. Amos did not really speak much unless there was something that needed saying.
She must have let her eyes linger for a moment longer than intended on his mouth, full lips, slightly parted, because a second later he leaned forward like he was going to kiss her, but she matched his movement and leaned back. If this was just a booty call, and it clearly was because he had nothing he wanted to talk about, she wasn't about to indulge and risk throwing her body into something that she knew full-well her heart would only want to follow. If nothing else, Amos was a loyal friend, and she wanted to keep it that way.
"Amos, really, what are you doing?" It was almost a plea, because goddammit if her body wasn't screaming, 'yes, woman, yes!' How many minutes more would she be able to hold out. Probably not many. She knew he wouldn't press her if she asked him outright to leave... that just meant she actually had to ask him to leave.
"Amos. I think you should..." he cut her off, not with his mouth, his delicious looking lips; he hugged her. One arm under her neck, the other over her back, and under her arm. He could basically wrap his arms all the way around her. He was over her and under at the same time. She couldn't really do anything except hug him back; not with the position he had her in. His neck and face over her head, she was forced to just lay there and breathe him in. The mix of clean sweat, and metallic oil, and something else, some food.
She was about to say something, maybe ask him if he was ok, but he breathed in deep; breathed her in. He was smelling her. God knows it was the only thing she could think of; his smell, it was overwhelming her. The longer he held her like that, tight and secure, the more his smell invaded her senses, making it impossible to think of anything else.
Then finally her body betrayed her, and she lifted her head just a couple of inches to let her nose brush the side of his neck. She could feel his stubble on her soft septum, and that was it. She may as well have declared game-on, because in the next moment Amos swiftly scooped her onto his chest and rolled under her, holding her tight to his body, her legs falling naturally to either side of his hips. He laved open mouth kisses onto her neck the likes of which she had never experienced. It was more like being devoured than kissed. Amos was all tongue and teeth and lips, like a starved man with the wettest most succulent fruit imaginable. He licked and lapped at her throat, all the way from her shoulder to her ear, and then bit and sucked his way back down to her collar bone.
She was hardly able to react, but if she stood a chance of stopping him before they went any further it would have to be now while she had any sense left at all. Her breathing was becoming uneven, and her eyes were periodically rolling back in her head. She tried to speak, but all the sound she could muster was one faint, breathy word, "Amos..."
The sound she made definitely didn't stop Amos, in fact it only served to drive him on. Where his hands had once been mid-back, they began roving the length of her sides, from her underarms, and edges of breasts all the way down to her ass.
At the second pass of her sides, when his hands went round the curve under her bum, he pressed his fingers into the hallow of her thighs, and she moaned, actually moaned. A lewd and totally sexual sound that would only be interpreted one way, and she let herself fall onto him panting. Game-over.
He didn't stop kissing her neck, only moved a few inches lower to include the tops of chest, and shoulders. Then one of his hands came up to tangle in the hair at the back of her head, and he paused all actions. She could feel her pupils blown wide open, and when she looked down at his face, he was searching hers, looking for approval or rejection with an equally wrecked, almost pained, expression on his face. She was struck by just how attractive he was in that moment; square jaw, straight nose, bright round eyes, and the prettiest flush to his cheeks. Her body was screaming, more, now, more now. Amos was scorching hot below her, his body radiating sex. He was more animal than man in this moment, his breaths were nearly growls.
She tried again to regain some kind of composure, and then he rolled his hips nudging her already burning core with his cock, and she remembered, she was supposed to have her period soon, and definitely would if they ended up fucking. Her face must have changed right before she put her forehead down on his chest, deflated. Because he sensed something and he immediately picked her head back up; with both of his hands; his eyes gave her the slightest flash of inquiry.
She groaned, almost inaudibly, "I can't." and followed it with a heavy dramatic sigh, as she sat up on his lap. Which actually made the tension between her legs worse, grinding into him further, she shivered at the sensation.
"I know." Amos said, naturally. Letting his hands fall down over her hips to rest on her thighs.
"What do you know?" Naya couldn't help the sharpness to her tone, clearly sexually frustrated.
"I know you are bleeding, I can smell it. Copper." But his face didn't change, he still looked like he wanted to eat her alive. "Is that all?"
Her mouth was hanging open, in disbelief. The things Amos said often left people speechless. She certainly didn't have anything else to say. When she didn't respond, Amos continued.
"I do need something." He repeated his earlier comment, but his intonation left her questioning his meaning this time. She cocked her head to the side, and lifted one eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate.
"Naya, I'm not here because I'm bored, or horny; I've stroked myself to sleep for most of my adult life. I'm here, in your bed, because I need you." Amos furrowed his eyebrows, and continued.
"I don't care if you're bleeding, as long as you're not injured. Sex is messy. People don't have sex because it's clean and tidy. The last time we docked at Ceres, you brought back a bottle of something that smelled like pine or something, and you started wearing it when you're menstruating, and I don't like it. I like the copper; you smell ripe. And when you're bleeding, all I can think about is throwing you in my bed and staying there for a week." He paused as if to contemplate a fantasy he'd been perfecting in his imagination, a little lost in his thoughts, a slight grin pulling at the corner of his lips.
Amos opened his mouth as if he was about to continue, but she cut him off.
"That might be the most I've ever heard you say in one-go. It also might be the strangest and sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me." And in the breath between stopping speaking, and choosing to lean back into Amos' embrace, she came to terms with the fact that she needed him too.
"You know, it's going to be about 80 hours before we get to Tycho." It was playful, insinuating, and all the encouragement that Amos needed. He squeezed her thighs, and Naya leaned back into him.
She took his face in both her hands, and kissed him properly, hard and on the mouth, bumped his teeth with her own, a little over zealous. But he grabbed her right back and kissed her just as hard. The moan he let go of when she ground her hips down onto him was enough to make anyone blush. It was hungry and wanton. Now that she was kissing him back, touching him back, Amos shifted a bit uncomfortably under her. He was not used to receiving, or partners reciprocating with this much enthusiasm.
When she ran her hand down the side of his face, and neck and let it rest on his chest, the weight of her small hand caused Amos to flinch. It was a slight motion, but she noticed, and moved her hand off of him slowly. She placed her hand on the bed beside him, and then did the same with her other hand. As soon as she took her hands off of him, his fervor ignited, and his tension dissolved. It was hard to keep her eyes open, the room was dim, and her breathing was erratic at best. The more he touched her, the more she wanted to scream, because she wanted desperately to touch him back.
All the while their kissing had slowed. Amos was still reveling in the softness of her neck and shoulder, and when he next met her mouth, her eyes were wide and on him. His eyes were still open; he never closed his eyes when he was sexual with another person. There was too much to watch, too much to miss, and too much to risk. People robbed you if you didn't keep both eyes open. Naya's eyes were different, piercing him now, and it startled him, but he couldn't look away.
He sat up on the mattress, easily lifting her upward with him, so that they faced each other. Amos kissed her cheeks, and lips slowly, never breaking eye contact. He moved his hands down to her chest, and palmed her breasts through her thin shirt, still staring right back at her. Her mouth fell open in a silent gasp at the way his thumb was rubbing rough little circles over her nipples through the fabric of the shirt. She lifted her hands up to his sizable arms, squeezed and then rubbed his triceps with the palms of her hand, and squeezed again with just her finger tips lightly, and there it was again, the almost imperceptible flinch.
"Amos, are you uncomfortable when I touch you?" She managed to get out through ragged breaths, because he had only moments earlier starting biting and licking her breast through her shirt, and it was driving her a little mad. He didn't look up, and didn't stop touching her,
"No, not specifically. Just not used to it. I'm used to being hit. Haven't really been with anyone in a long time." Which was maybe one of the saddest things she'd ever heard.
"You don't have to be too gentle with me I guess". He muttered through a mouthful of breast and shirt, and then snaked his other hand under her shirt, up her back, and around the back of her neck.
Following his lead she reached up and around his back, and grabbed his neck with one hand, and wound the other around his low back. Amos was a delicious mass of muscle, everywhere she touched, more muscle and sinew and tendon, hard everywhere. And the harder she grabbed and squeezed the more fevered he seemed. His breathing became almost frantic when she dug her hand into the meat of his traps, which in turn drove her to her own state of frenzy.
They couldn't get enough of each other's skin. Every part of them that touched burned, and every look that he gave her, that she returned, assured their mutual consent. Finally he pulled away, holding her shoulders firm, and looked her very seriously in the eye.
"If we do this, I'm not going to want to stop after one time. Can I have you for the next 80 hours?" He was holding her very tightly now, almost uncomfortably, and she was slightly frightened about what he was implying.
"Amos." She paused, she wasn't really sure how to answer that, but felt like spending too much time on her answer might ruin the momentum they had built up. How the fuck was she supposed to agree to be a person's sex slave for the next three days. He must have read the inner conflict on her face, or maybe it was her hesitation to answer, but he very swiftly and suddenly stood up and placed her on her feet in front of the bed, and took a step away from her toward the door of her cabin.
"Wait." But what was she going to say, or what was she hoping. This was exactly what she was afraid of. Exactly why she had tried, in vain, to dissuade him in the first place. She knew that someone was going to get hurt. She didn't want to hurt him.
"Wait for what Naya?" He was facing the door.
"Are you really just going to walk away because I'm not sure if I want to be your sex slave for the next 80 hours?" Her voice was a little higher and a little more harsh than she had aimed for, but it stopped him in his tracks, and he turned around to face her again.
He closed the distance between them in two long strides. Their chests nearly flush, she couldn't help the way this affected her breathing in an instant. By sheer proximity, without any contact at all they were both nearly panting again.
"I don't want you to be my slave," he ground out, the importance of his words nearly breaking him, he swallowed, "I want to worship you, in any way you'll have me for as long as you'll allow it." And at the end of these words he dropped to his knees in front of her, wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hip. "What I should have said is, 'Naya will you have me for the next 80 hours'"?
He wasn't looking up at her, but his admission of need was so earnest that it felt like a punch in her chest. Correction, this is what she was afraid of. Afraid of getting in too far, emotionally. She knew she wouldn't be able to separate her sex, and her heart. Even if Amos could walk away after a couple days of marathon sex, she knew she wouldn't be able to. She could feel herself on the brink of admitting how vulnerable this made her. She could feel the words on her tongue; she was practically biting it to keep the words back. A small voice, too small, like a scream in the vacuum of space, unheard, was yelling, 'don't'.
"What if I want more than 80 hours?" Idiot, the small unheard voice shook its head at her. Now it was her turn to put some distance between the two of them. She placed one hand on his shoulder and tried to push herself away from him, but his arms only tightened.
"I said, for as long as you'll allow it." He spoke in a low voice. She looked down at him, he was staring directly back up at her with an expression that she couldn't name, fierce loyalty, wild desire. Naya knew that when he rose to his feet, unblinking, that Amos felt it too.
He put one hand on her chest and marched her backward, to the bed, never blinking. She nearly fell onto it when the backs of her legs bumped the edge, but he caught her before she could stumble, and kissed her once on the cheek before he sank to his knees once again in front of her, but this time he dipped his head and put his face right in between her legs and inhaled deeply. She wasn't really surprised, she was used to Amos and his often strange behaviour, and to be honest it was little thrilling. That someone could want you so much that they reveled in the way you smelled. She didn't care anymore why he'd come to her room; just that he was staying.
Naya sat down on the bed, her knees splayed to either side of his body. He put his hands on the bed on either side of her, and kissed her through her pants, nuzzling his face into the apex of her thighs. He looked up at her and smiled, and then rose to kiss her mouth. Amos reached behind her and slid his hands up the back of her shirt and pulled her closer to him so that their bodies were pressed to each other. This time when she reached out to touch him he did not flinch, and when she ran her hand up his chest, and grazed him with her finger nails he practically purred in her mouth. She leaned back and smiled at him, it was a wicked grin. He returned it and scraped the pads of his fingers down her back, around her hips and placed them on her thighs and pushed her legs even farther apart.
As she leaned back on her elbows on the bed, he ran one hand up the centre of her body and massaged her breast through her shirt. He leaned down and nosed her cunt through her cotton pants. He wondered idly how she made these damn pants look so good. She smelled feral and fertile. Too many years in a brothel, Amos knew all the ways a person could smell; so far she smelled the best. He blew a lungful of hot air into the fabric, and breathed deeper, rubbed her with his chin, and she writhed on the bed. Her mewls and breathy moans were driving him mad, and while he had no shortage of experience taking and being taken, he wanted to do right by her.
"Naya?" He said from between her legs. She looked up and blinked a few times, a little mussed and a lot out of breath.
"Yeah?" God even the sound of her voice turned him on.
"Tell me what you like." He rubbed her core with the palm of his hand, and cupping her mound with his fingers pressed down. She fell back on the bed before she could answer, he chuckled silently to himself.
"Sorry." He smirked, "I really did want an answer. How about this, you just tell me if you don't like something?"
This time she didn't even lift her head, just breathed, "Yep." Amos kept rubbing her through her pants, and she shimmied below him. He leaned forward and kissed the sliver of skin visible between her shirt and pants. His beard scraped her skin in the nicest way, his warm breath, soft lips and playful teeth slipped from side to side. She barely noticed that he was slowly sliding her pants off. She laced her fingers in his short hair, and moaned his name, "Amos," which made his heart clench in his chest.
For all the experience he had, Amos couldn't remember a time anyone had ever called his name like that. Growing up on the street he'd always used an alias, he used it still in brothels. The weight of this intimacy was surprising and he liked it.
"Amos, more." Was all Naya said, and it jolted him into action. He grabbed the waist of her pants and pulled them straight off. She gasped a little at her own sudden nakedness and made a move to cover herself but he immediately stilled her hands, giving her a look that said, don't you dare. She inhaled slowly, never taking her eyes off his. He ran his hands up her legs from her ankles to her thighs and back down to her knees, and pushed her legs open again. She could feel her muscles resisting him, but it didn't stop him. He ran one hand up the inside of her thigh and over her hot folds, she exhaled a shaky breath.
Her insides clenched around nothing, he could feel the flex under his hand, and his dick jumped in his pants in response. Amos looked down for a moment, then back up at Naya, and grinned, "They're talking."
She smiled and leaned forward, she had to touch him, her body was burning for him. If Amos was going to take it this slow, she was going to have to kick him into high gear. She grabbed him and kissed him again, and ran a hand down his chest, paused right before the top of his pants, and then proceeded to palm him through the cotton. Every part of him was hard. He grunted and gasped through the kiss, and pushed his cock farther into her hand. She gave him a few slow pumps, and he slipped first one, then two fingers into her wet and waiting cunt. The sound she made was somewhere between a cry and a gulped moan; he stopped kissing her and looked at her to make sure she was still on-board. She nodded and kissed him again, then rolled her hips against his hand and tossed her head back as he sucked at her neck and collarbone.
"I want to make sure you feel good," he said, coming up for breath, "and goddamn, I wanna fuck the daisies outta you." He was rhythmically thrusting his cock into her hand, and his fingers into her cunt to the same tempo as their laboured breathing.
"Yeah - show me." She barely said the words and he was on top of her, pulling his cock out, his pants just past his perfect round ass, lining himself up at her entrance. Any hesitation she'd felt before was gone; she grabbed his ass and squeezed. He rubbed his tip through her folds and slowly pushed inside her, one hand at her hip, the other framing her shoulder and face.
"Naya," was all he said as he looked her directly in the eye and slammed into her. She gasped at the sudden fullness, and sting of his size. The slow drag as he pulled back out of her was more than either of them could take, he hissed between his teeth and she held her breath, and pushed back in with just as much force. The third or fourth time he pulled back out with deliberate slowness she wrapped her calf up around his ass and rocked back hard into him. It surprised him a little. She did it again. And again. The pace was set, and it was more than a little violent; she knew it would be.
Amos lifted himself up onto his palms, and cocked one knee up to get more leverage on the bed and a better look at her face as he hammered into her. This new angle shifted his entry just enough that she could feel his tip nudging her G spot, nudging her over the edge. She knew there would be a red mess after this, but she was nearly ripping the mattress with the way she was holding it, and couldn't bring herself to care. Amos didn't seem to care either, wasn't slowing down even though he could feel her insides flutter around him. The high pitch keen as she placed her open hand onto his chest and squeezed was how Naya first came on his cock. He fucked her right through it, and when she was done she was wetter, hotter, and softer than before.
She was tapping on his chest, but he wasn't even close to finished with her. He slowed down, and started rocking his hips like cracking a whip, and began coaxing her spent lady bits back to life. All the while he was kissing her face.
"Come on, its still early." He said as he licked the shell of her ear and breathed down the side of her neck. He was still rock hard inside her, and she felt a tiny bit guilty that she wanted a moment to rest. He sounded genuinely happy, and when she looked up at him he was smiling, a huge shit-eating grin right back at her. He pulled out so just the head of his cock was inside her and played a little at her entrance, letting the ridge of his dick slide and pop in and out of her.
"You're wicked. You know?" She whined, and then reached around and slapped his ass. His eyes went wide, and fierce, and he froze, but his cock twitched inside of her. Naya knew she was in a bit of trouble. She was stuck in his gaze, and wasn't sure what he was going to do next. So she reached up and stroked the side of his face.
"Sorry?" She offered with a small smile. It wasn't really an apology or a question, but she wanted to know if they were still good. He answered her with another hard thrust, followed by completely pulling out, rising onto his knees, and turning her over onto her stomach.
"Don't be." Was all he said before he filled her again, "but I'm not going to hold back anymore." And he didn't. He railed into her with even more force than before at an insane pace. Every stroke had her pinned to the mattress and screaming with pleasure. She could feel his cock getting harder and thicker; she knew he was close, but every time she thought she could feel his climax approaching he would rein himself in just enough to prolong the pounding.
He reached under her stomach and with the pads of his finger tips firmly pressed on her swollen clit. She gasped and came immediately, surprised by her incoherent screams. He didn't let up. Amos switched from all-out pounding, to slowly dragging his cock in and out of her now engorged and slick cunt. It was almost worse; so good that she felt delirious.
Naya was losing sense of how long they'd been fucking, or how many times she'd climaxed. Was this what he'd meant when he said he wouldn't want to stop after one time? Amos was still behind her, and over her. Her legs felt weak, her muscles spent, he was kissing and licking her sweat-soaked back. He sat up with his knees on either side of her hips, his dick still deep inside her. He placed one hand on her back, one on her ass, and rolled his hips, and her eyes shot open, as she cried out - it was too much, she couldn't go on, it was all too much. She was practically questioning creation, begging the powers-that-be silently for release that she couldn't ask for, because it was too fucking good - she would never ask him to stop.
And then suddenly he did; he pulled out, and laid down nearly on top of her, with his face very close to hers. "Hey," was all he said, as he wiped the tears from her cheek. Naya hadn't even realized she was crying; her body had given up everything to him. She inhaled deeply and blinked a few times, and looked back at him. He looked so lost, but she couldn't understand why.
"Hey." She replied, "Why'd you stop?" She sniffed a bit and wiped at her own cheeks, as she rolled to her side, and he laid down beside her, draping his leg over her protectively.
"You're done." Amos wiped at her cheek again, and in reply pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side a little, and gave her the slightest smile, "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You didn't," She smiled, "Sex is messy Amos. People don't have sex because it's clean and tidy." She smiled a little and brought her hand up to cup his face. He leaned into her touch. "People have sex with other people because they need something. I needed that Amos."
She reached down between the two of them, and fisted his red cock before she kissed him on the mouth; only his pleasure mattered to her now.
She rolled on top of him; her body was humming as she took his cock, lined him up and slipped back down around his length and ground down as deep as she could. Amos put his hands on her hips and groaned at the depth, and squeezed her hips. She swiveled like she was dancing to an imaginary rhythm. He moaned and ran his hand up her stomach and gently rubbed her breast. Watching her move above him like that was pushing him over his own edge; he knew he wouldn't last long like this.
"Amos," she breathed, and repeated it with each breath.
Naya chanting his name had him reeling, he felt hysterical, he could feel the wetness behind his own eyes. His hips jerked spontaneously while hers continued to grind down around him unrelenting, and when he came inside of her, his ears ringing, her silhouette was the last thing he saw before his vision went white and starry. He blinked, and gasped, and she stopped moving but didn't get off right away. Instead she leaned forward and rested her head on his chest and listened to his heart beat, slowly becoming more regular.
They laid there a while. Without speaking, until eventually they fell asleep like that, a perfect mess, attached at the hip.