For a long time we stay like that, pressing, kissing. The bed cushions my shoulder and the side of my head. Drac is warm and encompassing. I bask in his nearness, his heat, his breath. I want more but at the same time I don’t feel rushed. It’s lovely how our groins push into each other with yearning, but we can still keep that height of pleasure without doing anything more.
Delayed gratification. I could be into that. But this is something else, something right and wonderful and perfect for no other reason than to be with each other on all levels.
Drac pulls back a little, cups my face, and pushes my perfectly styled hair back from my forehead. I feel my eyes roll up at the gentle gesture.
“You are quite engaging when you’re not trying to be something you’re not.”
“Thank you, I think.” Not sure if I should be insulted.
“I mean when you’re just you, you’re quite beautiful. Not that you’re not all the time.”
I grin. “I get it. You’re talking about the parts that aren’t a role.”
“Yes.”
“And you? Are you in a role?”
Instead of answering, he kisses me some more and I promptly forget the subject.
I decide to wait until Drac takes the lead for more. I’ve never waited so long in my life for someone to disrobe me. After about a half-hour of clothed foreplay, he moves up in the bed and tugs at my tie and the buttons on my shirt.
I help him get those things off me, then reach for his vest. It’s so soft in my hands, so light, but I throw it overboard.
Naked chest to naked chest, we spend more minutes getting used to each other again. I can feel his heart beat against me. His exhales are warm in my hair, on my neck, and against my upper peck.
He takes his time exploring my chest. I love it. My nipples are diamond hard. He kisses the left one, his lips barely brushing. My whole body feels it. It’s as if I’m levitating right off the bed and for a moment I wonder if the ship has lost its artificial gravity.
Drac’s tongue, like velvet, brushes over my nipple, and a few seconds later the dampness of that kiss zings through me as the air touches it making it almost cold. He licks again.
I don’t think I’ve ever come just from someone licking my nipples.
I don’t know if I’ll survive this. I’m used to play-book fucking with a few kinks thrown in. With Drac, that book is burned to ash.
I cry out as he sucks my nipple into his mouth.
He pulls back. “Okay?”
“Fuck, yes!”
He chuckles. “You’re the experienced one. Just checking.”
“Yeah. More, please.”
He takes his time, giving lots of attention to my nipples. At long last he works his way down my flat belly, kissing and licking. I can’t stop my body from arching up.
He meets my eyes as his fingers fumble with my waistband button. My jeans are tight. The bulge below is quivering, pressing hard at the material. I can feel the dampness of my arousal.
I lift up and tug at the back of my jeans, scooting out of them. My cock bobs free as I push my jeans down my thighs and all the way off. I have this weird sensation of vulnerability that is not normal for me. I laugh it off and turn, bending my knees.
Drac’s hand presses my stomach just above where my cock stretches up. He doesn’t gawk at it. Instead, he looks down at me, eyes smiling, and runs his hand to the side and down my naked hip. Everything I am and perhaps may ever be begins to tremble.
“I love how you touch me,” I say.
“You are quite—um—gorgeous. To say the least.”
I yank on his own waistband, which is easy because of the “V” cuts in the front and back of his pants. His pants are very loose and only cling to him because they are slightly stiff leather. There is a small set of buttons behind a flap at his groin. Those are tight, right against his bulge. I need to sit up. I need both hands.
He says, “Lie back. I’ll do it.” His voice rumbles through me.
When Drac’s leathers come off and he’s naked, I am stunned even more by his beauty. He’s perfect in every way, how the skin at his hips dents, the way it curves over the muscles of his thighs, dark and gleaming in the low light of the bedroom, and his beautiful cock, dark at the shaft but pink-tipped, throbbing upward. The head pushes past the foreskin, shining.
I press myself against him, feeling our bodies meet in shared heat, and kiss him for a long time. I can’t get enough of that. Normally I’d just want to move on to the main event. But this—this is special. And I refuse to push him past anything he isn’t ready himself to initiate.
But Drac is ready. I feel his hand rove down to my ass, caressing, squeezing. I arch into his grip. His other hand is trapped between us, with mine, and it pushes for enough space to caress me low, lower. My own hand follows his, over his taut abdomen, down to feel the firmness of his cock nudge my thigh, my fingers. My free hand is still on his shoulder, gripping as if I need balance.
I am dizzy. Reeling from him. His scent, his touch, his energy. The intermittent hum of his voice. The groans.
I grasp his cock and stroke up. A sharp inhale and he holds his breath, eyes shut.
From so much foreplay, we are both close. His hand grasps my own dick and instantly my euphoria begins the climb. Up and up. Everything threatening to blank out. Nothing real but this. No ship. No Solar System. No galaxy. Nothing but this and him. Drac. In my arms. In my hands.
It is as if he is stroking every fiber of my being. Up and down. Liquid drips down. My body thrums. He’s thrumming, too, in my palm.
My body seeks its center and my mind moves outward.
I still have enough awareness to run the tips of my fingers over his balls, keep up my own caresses. They’ve already drawn up. He’s about to explode. I stroke up and down, fast now. He echoes my movements and my cock pulses deep inside. My balls tingle. My body arches.
We both cry out. I’m coming and he is, too. His hand comes up from my ass and presses at the center of my back. Lips crash into mine, searing.
We come together stroking each other into the aftermath as if we’ve done it hundreds of times before. As if our bodies already know each other—were meant to be.
I never want this to end.
We pull apart. Our hands come up between us and clasp. We catch our breaths, staring at each other.
A voice inside my head keeps repeating. Please tell me we’re not done. Please tell me we’re not done.
My hand is wet. The dampness between us glues us together. I don’t care. He doesn’t care.
Drac pushes me over until I’m on my back. He lies on top of me. For the first time I see him grin.
I wrap my arms around him. Tight.
“More?” he asks in a whisper.
I nod. “More.”
His grin catches mine as we continue to kiss as ship’s night deepens.
Chapter Eight
We take few breaks our first night together. Only for dozing. Not for water or washing or any real sleep.
Drac moves like a dancer in bed. Everywhere at once. Making me his. Giving himself to me.
The first time I suck him into my mouth, he gushes with little warning.
“Weldon,” he whispers, making my horrible real name sound like a prayer. Then louder, “Weldon!” And I hold him through the orgasm until he stops shaking.
He’s not a virgin, but I can tell he’s not super experienced, either. To me, he’s perfect. He’s the lover of my dreams.
I don’t mind that he uses my old name. I know why. He’s connecting to me. Not to Captain Stirling Kane. Not to some character I’m playing in a script. But to me.
Occasionally throughout the night, I remind myself of my personal promise I made: Don’t let this become another John Luke.
But Drac is nothing like John Luke. I tell myself that over and over. He’s warm and gentle and attentive. He is able to take charge, but he isn’t in charge, if that makes any sense.
He might have ignored me
at first, played hard to get, but he’s not cool like John Luke was, keeping everything between us tidy and in its place. He’s shy but open. Hair messy in his eyes. Sheepish smiles that pull his lower lip in between his teeth. And he asked to read one of my personal poems I have never shown a soul. John Luke would never have asked me that.
We doze and make love until morning. We don’t really sleep. But I feel like we have slept together, and slept together and the intimacy between us is something I have not felt or thought of wanting in years.
Because I was hurt by my love for John Luke, I did not allow myself to realize how deeply intimacy is missing from my life.
I’m not necessarily an idiot, but I have let myself get caught up in unreal roles over the years, and played them well without any deeper self involvement.
When ship’s morning arrives, we both declare we are starved.
Drac lets me use his sonic bath first. I dress again in my jeans, white shirt and tie.
When I come out of the bathroom, Drac is ready to go in.
“I’ll wait for you,” I say.
“No need. I’ll meet you in the galley.”
All right, I won’t push it. I nod and leave him to his privacy.
On my walk to the mess hall, I’m floating. My eyes are slightly blurred from lack of sleep, yet I’m still euphoric. But my stomach begins to flutter with nerves again. I have just had the best night of my life in… ever. Now, being apart from Drac with my mind clearing a little, I am afraid.
Afraid I won’t feel that ever again. Afraid Drac may not feel the same.
How can I be so unsure as I remember his sweet touches, his body so natural, so entwined with mine?
We did not actually fuck. Which is unheard of for a porn script. But this wasn’t a script. Intercourse was nothing we ever thought of as we touched and made love. But I want that, too. I’m nervous because it was one night, and what if things end before they start?
In the galley I make two plates of eggs. Scrambled. Easy and light. I pour orange juice.
Others come in and out of the mess hall to eat. Armstrong remarks about my attire. “You look good. Formal and all.”
“Thank you.”
I keep the eggs under a warmer, hoping it’s not too long before Drac arrives or they’ll be like rubber.
I do not sit. I walk about the room. I go to the huge viewport and fiddle with the picture, giving it a purple screen.
Armstrong tries to engage me in light conversation, but stops when he sees I’m not listening.
I try not to look at the time, which ticks by at the bottom right corner of the viewer. It’s been fifteen minutes. That’s not long, I tell myself. It’s nothing. He’ll come.
Five more minutes go by. I’ll need to make fresh eggs now. I think about adding toast to the meal this time.
My hands are shaking as I go to throw away the eggs, which are still steaming, still look good.
I hear the hiss of the mess hall door open and turn.
Drac enters. Alone. He’s wearing jeans not unlike mine, and a sheer black tank. His hair is pulled back in a loose tail, casual but very neat. His eyes scan the room and stop on me.
“Hungry?” I ask.
“Starving,” he replies and walks toward the table.
Armstrong observes this, as do a few of the others, with raised eyebrows. Drac is so aloof with them all. For him to come right to me gives everything away. I don’t care. Drac is here. And all my blurred vision clears.
I take the eggs and serve them up.
“Toast?” I ask.
“Yes.”
It’s done in a minute and I bring the steaming plates over to the table and sit across from him. He has already drunk half his orange juice.
My hands are still shaking but he says nothing. Armstrong sighs, looking a bit dejected, gets up and leaves.
If there are others still milling about, eating, I don’t see them. Drac is my whole world right now.
“I would have made bacon, too, but the supply on this mission sucks so bad. No one eats it.”
“I heard.” He puts a forkful of eggs into his mouth and chews. “Good.”
“Thanks.”
“Thanks for making breakfast.”
“Thanks for last night.”
And here we sit, thanking each other. Can you say awkward?
I start to laugh, as I often do when I’m unsure of myself. He laughs right along with me. In that, we’re the same. It relaxes me to know this.
Everything is soft-focused right now. The food sparks in my mouth. Drac looks made of light and shadow, blue, black, bronze. I think I could fall into him forever.
I am starved and wolf my food. I pour us coffee. Someone else made it before I came in but there’s plenty and it’s good. I watch Drac put two creams and two sugars in his.
I like it with one cream. Slightly bitter.
After breakfast, I invite Drac to walk the ship with me. He’s delighted.
“I’ve been wanting a real tour. I want to see things more close up.”
“You can ask me anything you want about the ship. Not sure I’ll have all the answers, but I’ve been with her for five years.”
I am unsure, though. I want him to want to be with me, not look at the ship. My suggestion for a walk is an excuse just to be together. But I am glad to have his company.
In the corridor, I want to hold his hand but refrain. I’m such a sap. That is not normal for me!
And gods he has questions! So many questions. As I told him, I can only answer some of them, and only those because I’ve been doing this for so long.
Sometimes knowledge rubs off whether you want it to or not. It’s not like I went to school for ship’s diagnostics, or design. Or even the daily running of a ship. I follow scripts when it’s called for. We don’t have lines with much scientific jargon. It’s more about someone’s tight ass. Or fashion, make up, hair, lube and such for the individual sponsors who pay a lot for us to wear and use their stuff.
Still, I do my best to while showing him around.
Drac takes his time on the engineering level. I hope it’s because maybe he wants to get me into a shadowed alcove. To my disappointment, he doesn’t. But just being near him… that’s all I need right now.
We spend a lot of the day exploring Lacrosse and he knows things even I don’t know. It’s not usual with my crew, but when I ask him about how he knows so much he says he likes to read. That’s a fine hobby. Some paint. Some crochet. Some do crosswords. The ones who talk politics usually don’t last. Most of them, when they’re done commercializing themselves, or using a sponsored product, watch vids, play in vids, or do their nails. The most popular are into cute cat holos and flattering their fans.
I have to say in all my twenty-five years doing this job, five of which I’ve been the captain, I’ve never given any one of my fellow actors, detailed tour of the ship. Most wouldn’t know a pressure sensor from a proximity sensor. Not even sure I do.
Drac touches bulkheads. Splays his hands over light grids. His whole being seems to pulse as if alive after a long sleep. I mean, he pulsed for me, in more ways than one. But if possible, he is even more attentive, excited.
When he starts talking about things I don’t understand, I remain silent. Armstrong’s gossip that there is a scientist aboard is probably right. But he’s an amateur one. Nothing wrong with that. And I’m still determined to keep my mouth shut about it.
After lunch, I am longing for a nap.
I invite Drac but he declines, saying he needs to nap, too. “Really sleep,” he says with a smirk.
I go back to my quarters alone.
My body wants to wind down but I have a hard time falling asleep. My skin tingles with the memory of Drac’s touch. I grab a pillow and pull it tight to my chest, as if I am holding him against me. I’ve bathed, but it’s as if I can still smell him on my arms, my legs, as if I can taste him on my lips.
Finally, darkness sweeps over me, peaceful and welcoming.
Chapter Nine
My dreams are liquid. Echoing. Soft. I don’t remember them coherently, but there are shapes and textures and stars.
I wake feeling strangely hollow but refreshed. I drink a lot of water.
I go over some emails from the PTB. Mostly they are about what the crew are doing, and if they are even remotely on script.
Everything is fine. There is nothing from PTB about my performance last night with Drac. Perhaps they haven’t gotten to it yet. Usually they are so quick.
I look up our ratings. Nothing has changed. Yet. By tomorrow maybe. Then we’ll see how the audience likes our pairing. Me and Drac together.
I sign off on a few things to do with sponsors. I see there is a note about a script change, but it’s not for any time in the next few days so I make a note to look it over later.
My fingers ache to look up Drac’s name, go deeper into hidden files. I don’t do it. I should get a medal, I think. But I’m no stalker. And he’ll tell me what he wants to tell me as we get closer.
I hope that will happen.
We have another dinner date which I arranged. This time on the observation deck. I have a whole picnic planned out under the stars. What could be better? Space is the perfect place for that.
I finish my correspondence as Captain, and arrive at the galley with plenty of time to put together a basket of goodies for us.
Danielle is there, finishing a meal. She’s gorgeous in a hot pink bikini top and lace skirt. She looks up at me, her face perfectly made up. I wonder who she’s meeting later. But her stare turns to a glare. It’s not a friendly gaze now.
“Don’t hurt my brother,” she says.
“What?”
“Don’t. He’s new. He’s sensitive, okay?”
“Okay.” I frown. “It’s not my intention to hurt anyone. And I like Drac.” More than like, says a low voice in my head.
“Sure.” She says it like she doesn’t believe it. “He’s not hard like we are. He’s not seasoned.”
Not Another Hero Page 6
