rain check
by Helen
"Another time," she'd said, shrugging and pulling on her shirt, yawning a little. She'd fallen asleep on the couch, waiting for him.
"yeah," he said.
"He'll be okay?" She scrubbed her hair back out of her face and fished a rubber band out of her pocket to make a lopsided ponytail.
"He'll be okay," he said.
"well," she hesitated, her hand on the doorknob. "you want a blowjob or something?"
"another time," he said.
"What's your real name?" he'd asked once.
"None of your business," she said, squirming a little to get her legs more tightly around his waist.
She let herself into his room four days later.
"rain check?" she said, and when he nodded, walked swiftly towards him, pulling her shirt off over her head, and he met her halfway, shoving back his chair and putting an arm around her waist, swinging her up, one hand under her ass. She wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him while he stepped around the work table, scattered with papers and blueprints, carried her to the bed.
"Bad week," she said, smiling ruefully at him.
"Bad," he said, and kissed her again, hard, put her down on the bed long enough to yank off his clothes. She scooted back and hooked her pants down off her hips at the same time, dumping them onto the floor in a crumpled heap. Lance put his hand on her ankle and pulled her closer, putting one hand flat on the bed next to her hip and leaning to kiss her.
"m." She tilted her head back and put a hand in his hair, and then moved back enough to pull him onto the bed with her. He ran his hands over her shoulders, the old scars on her ribs, still kissing, their lips slipping neatly together, and she scrambled closer, pushing him down until he was sitting, leaning against the wall. She bent and kissed his knee, and then ran her hands up his thighs, slid into his lap, and he boosted her up enough to kiss her collarbones, her breasts, until she was digging her hands into his shoulders restlessly. When he let her down, she pressed him back, grinding, holding one of his wrists against the wall, and he laughed, almost, when she mouthed his throat, curled her tongue around his earlobe.
"okay," she said in his ear, voice rough.
"okay," he said, and she reached across him, pawed the bedside drawer open with the tips of her fingers, fishing out a condom. She held it up to the light and squinted at the expiration date, her other hand on Lance's cock, making slow spirals. She nodded, and pulled the wrapper open, putting the condom on Lance carefully, biting her lip, before sliding down on him, both of them making soft involuntary noises.
Bug pressed her face into his neck when she moved, and he could only tell when she came because of the tremors in her legs, her damp breath against his neck, and when she was done she let him flip her over, brace himself over her, and she smiled up at him quietly, high flush in her cheeks, and held on.
"Roll over," she said, after, and when he did, started to scratch the place between his shoulderblades delicately with her short sharp nails.
"I think this is probably kind of fucking with my mystique," he mumbled, and she snorted derisively, and slid off the bed, picking up her pants and pulling them on. After a moment, Lance got up and started putting on his clothes as well.
"thanks," she said when he tossed her her shirt on his way to his table, and by the time she left, he was seated back at the table, frowning at a set of security reports.
He thought maybe it was getting out of hand, but Bug said
"I'll decide when it gets out of hand," and he trusted her in that. She came to his room when she felt like it, half arranged by their silent nods when they met in the hallway. He never knew if she would be able to come, hindered by the care of a half a dozen subsystems that kept them in light and heat and water, but she came when he needed her, and he did need her, as much as he needed anyone.