Fox and Dragon

by Jet Mykles

  Yeah, she thought as the thick meat filled her mouth. This was what she needed. She didn’t need to be thinking about hulking, pale Krystanni greenies with blazing orange hair. Although she couldn’t help but wonder if Drake Ange’s cock would taste different. Would he be long and choke her, or thick so her jaw hurt getting around it? Stop it! she told herself firmly, gripping Darren’s cock and attacking it with gusto.

  “Stars, Fox!” Thick fingers speared through her hair. “Keep it up, and you’ll have to wait for me to fuck you.”

  She considered it, paused, then released him.

  He groaned as she scooted back on his bed, eyes going wide when she bent her knees and spread her legs.

  “Fuck me.”

  He groaned again and sank down to his elbows between her legs.

  She snarled and grabbed his head when he would have gone down on her. “No sucking. Fucking. Now.”

  He licked his lips, but she saw the decision in his face. He climbed up onto his knees, grabbed one of her thighs with one hand and his dick with the other, and aimed it for her opening. She was wet enough, although not as wet as she could be. Truthfully, she kind of liked the pain, though she’d never tell him that. He worked himself inside of her, and she shut her eyes tight, just feeling. How much would Ange have to work to get it all in?

  Grunting, she reached up to hook a hand around Darren’s neck and used it to haul him down into a kiss.

  He dropped willingly enough, bracing himself on his elbows above her while his hips worked that thick cock in and out of her body.

  Fox rocked with him, determined to lose herself in the act. It was good. It was very good. The friction, the heavy body. She reached her free hand down her own body, wiggling it between them until she found her clit. Oh, yeah! She came around his cock, her thrashing body nearly throwing him off. He held on and rode her hard through it, which only set her off more. He pounded at her until she came again, then groaned loud as he followed her over the brink.

  They lay in a sweaty heap, just breathing. She enjoyed it for a few moments, but then he was just plain heavy. Grunting, she wormed out from underneath Darren, despite his protest, and made her way into the bathroom. Darren’s apartment had a real water shower, but she chose to pump Blue into her hands instead. A Blue wash didn’t involve a long drying process. Briskly, she rubbed the cool gel substance over her body, then stepped into the stall to let it do its thing to remove the sweat and smell from her skin.

  Clean, she stepped back out into the bedroom and hunted to find her clothes.

  “You’re leaving?” Darren hadn’t left the bed, although he had rolled over to lie on his back, hands behind his head, legs spread.

  She glanced at his cock, but it lay quiet on his thigh. Darren was good for long fucks, but he wasn’t usually good for multiples. She wasn’t in the mood for it anyway. “Yes.”

  “You could stay. Have breakfast.”

  “No, thanks.”

  He sighed, but there was a bit of a laugh to it. “Why do I feel so used after fucking you, Fox?”

  She shrugged as she fastened her bra. “We’ve had sex. If you’re complaining, let me know and I’ll go elsewhere next time.”

  He scowled at her. “Just like that?”

  “What else is there?”

  “Romance? Love?”

  She didn’t meet his gaze. Even though she knew they were just using each other for the physical, she always felt a bit guilty that she really was using him. Not guilty enough to stop, but enough to not feel comfortable staying afterward. “We don’t have either of those.” She was determined, at least, to be honest with him.

  He grabbed his heart as though she’d stabbed him. “That hurts, Fox.” His grin let her know that he wasn’t really serious.

  She rolled her eyes. “Listen, you’re not in love with me. I know it and you know it. Why pretend?”

  “Okay, love might be a bit much, but you could still stay.” He patted the rumpled bed beside him, grinning. “A warm body’s a nice thing to wake up next to.”

  She ignored an imagined image of a pale white arm flung across her bare belly, especially since she liked the idea. “Not my kind of thing. You know that.”

  He sighed. “I do.”

  She heard him stand and slipped into her shoes as he stepped close to her side. She tilted her head back and accepted the brief kiss he brushed across her lips.

  “Sex with you is amazing,” he said, gazing into her eyes.

  She smiled for him. “Thanks. You too.”

  She managed not to scowl until she left his rooms, but she glared into the shadows of the hall just outside his door. She’d just had sex. Good, hard sex. She could feel it in her bones. So why, she asked herself as she stalked toward the staircase, are you headed to the simpit to fly with Dragon?

  She argued with herself the entire way, but it didn’t stop her from going. The urge to fly with him was too much.

  Chapter Seven

  Beth set the wrench down on top of the meter-high hovering tool chest. Rummaging around in the top drawer, she heard someone approach from behind. Thinking it would be Hammer, the head mechanic in this dock, she called out without looking, “Where’s that pneumatic drill, Hamm?”

  “I wouldn’t know, sir.”

  She froze at the sound of the low voice. That was not Hammer. She turned to find Ange approaching her. He wore a flightsuit, telling her that he’d probably just come from the simpit. He looked marvelous with the snug fabric hugging every curve. Surely he looked more fabulous than she, covered with sweat and oil. She rubbed a forearm over her brow as he came to a halt before her.

  He saluted. “Good afternoon, sir.”

  She glared at the oil streak on her forearm, then half-heartedly saluted back. “Afternoon, Ensign.” Her blue midriff top was soaked with sweat, and the top half of her coveralls was dangling down the back of her legs, held up by her belt. It was damn hot in the docks sometimes, and she hadn’t been expecting company. “Done with sims for the day?”

  He nodded. “We just finished, sir. We missed you there.”

  “Yes, well ...” She turned away, reaching for a rag on top of the tool chest. “You were in good hands with Pol. Everything go all right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Was there something you needed?”

  “No, sir. I found myself with some free time and came to harass the mechanics and get a close-up look at a veeby.”

  She laughed. “I should scold you for that.” She shrugged. “But I can’t blame you.” She looked up at the Kitsune’s hull. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

  “They are.” He looked up at the ship that sat beside them. “Is this your ship, sir?”

  “It is.”

  “Have you rigged her yourself, sir?”

  “With a little help, yes.” She turned to look toward the dock’s main doors, scanning for Hammer, but he was nowhere to be found. In fact, the dock was strangely deserted. True, dock nine wasn’t very crowded, but there were usually some people about. She hadn’t noticed she’d been alone until now.

  Drake stepped closer to the ship, eyes scanning the plated exterior. “You removed some of the weapons.”

  Beth nodded, reaching back to grab the top half of her coveralls. “I did. She’s rigged for speed, not battle.” She shoved her hands into the arms and shrugged into the covering.

  Cocking his head, Drake walked around to the prow, then backed away slowly as he studied the ship from the front. “A few laser cannons to either side of the cockpit might give you offensive advantage without losing any of the streamline.”

  Frowning, Beth went to stand next to him. “They’d mar the line.”

  “Not if you embedded them under the hull. There’s room if you cut into the cockpit.”

  “That’d make it a snug fit.”

  “You’d fit, sir. I might not, but you would.”

  She studied her ship with a critical eye instead of eyeing the impressive breadth of his shoulde
rs. “You may be right. I’ll consider it.”

  “Do you fly her often?”

  Beth cleared her throat and headed back for the tool chest. “Not often, no. But I keep her in active doc anyway, rather than berthing her.”

  “You keep her fueled?”

  “Always.”

  “My brother had an X43 at home. Not a veeby, but they’re sweet rides.”

  She looked up and they shared a smile. It was she who broke it, looking down as she opened a drawer.

  “May I ask why you don’t fly anymore, sir?”

  She swallowed a lump in her throat and stared at a worn drill lying inside the drawer. She shrugged. “I’m better suited for training.”

  “Why is that, sir?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him.

  He held out his hands, palms up and spread. “Forgive my prying, sir, but you were hailed as the prime example of a veeby pilot five years ago. It seems strange that you’re not still on active duty.”

  Why was she thrilled that he knew her history? Surely all her recruits had read the old feeds by now. She would have if she were in their place. “I took myself off active duty.”

  “May I ask why?”

  She turned to face him fully. Not many people asked her about this anymore. She was sure there were many who were curious, but most of her recruits never got to the point where they felt comfortable asking, and the people that Beth dealt with on a daily basis already knew. “I love to fly, but I’m not cut out for battle.”

  He smiled. “I know firsthand that you’re pretty good, sir.”

  Fox thanked heavens that her dark skin probably hid the flush that burned her neck and cheeks. She’d flown with him a total of three times during that first weeklong sim, then twice more during his next rotation. To her knowledge, he’d never said a word of it to anyone. True, the flights were recorded, as any training sim was, but rarely would anyone except the lead trainer -- in this case, her -- actually look at the recording.

  She put her back to him and turned to the open panel in the engine she was tweaking. “Sims are different. No one actually dies in a sim.”

  “Is that why you never fought seriously in our flights?”

  She laughed softly. “You could tell?”

  “If you’d wanted to hit me, you would have.”

  “I’m not so sure of that. You’re good, Dragon. Better than when you first arrived on Rainier.”

  He stepped up beside her, barely an arm’s length away. Her skin tingled on that side. “I appreciate the compliment, sir, but I’m quite sure you could have taken me out any number of times.”

  She reached out to uselessly adjust the fit of a connector. “Perhaps.”

  “You told me that sims were to be taken seriously. To be handled like the real thing.”

  She hung her head. “I did, and I apologize to you for going against my own directive.”

  “Please don’t apologize, sir. Those flights were ... amazing. I’ve meant to thank you for them.”

  She shook her head. “Please don’t thank me for flouting protocol. I bent the rules rather a lot for those, and I ...” She turned her face halfway toward him, unable to face him fully, but forcing herself to give him the words he deserved. “I appreciate your not saying anything about them.”

  “You didn’t fly with the other recruits.” His tone told her that he knew this to be a fact.

  Still, she shook her head. “No.”

  “Why did you fly with me?”

  She laughed, her eyes still fixed on the wires and metal before her. “I had this insane urge to try you out, Dragon.” She was horrified by the possible alternate meanings to her words. “That is ...”

  “I’m glad, grateful, that you did, Lieutenant.” His low voice was very nearly a purr, an audible caress down her neck and along her shoulder.

  She backed away, bumping into the hovering tool chest. “I should thank you as well. I haven’t flown against a worthy opponent in ages. Sorry I could only offer you the instincts of a rusty old woman.”

  He frowned, stepping toward her. “You’re not old.”

  “I’m a good ten standard years older than you are, Ange.”

  “That’s still not old.”

  She grabbed the tool chest and swung it around between them. It was childish and cowardly, but she felt better with it there

  He stopped, glancing down at the tool chest, acknowledging her use of it to separate them.

  She defiantly stared up into those glittering green eyes. “Was there something else you wanted, Ensign?”

  “Yes.”

  She shuddered slightly at his deep tone and covered it up by gripping the sides of the tool chest. “Well?”

  “You.”

  She tried to dredge up the anger she should feel at that, but it was a farce. The boil in her belly told her that. “Please tell me that I misunderstood what you just said.”

  “You didn’t misunderstand, sir.” He leaned on the tool chest.

  She leaned back. “That’s rather forward, Ensign.”

  “I’m aware of that, sir. I thought you might appreciate knowing that I’d love to fuck you for a few hours or more.”

  A few hours ... or more. Her knees nearly gave out. “It’s not going to happen.”

  “Why not, sir?”

  “I’m your superior officer.”

  His eyes lit up at that. “I’m aware of that as well, sir.”

  “Sir” should not sound like an endearment! “It wouldn’t do.” Although no one has to know. It happened plenty and wasn’t a problem, as long as no one made a big deal of it.

  “No one has to know. Anymore than they know about our flights.”

  His echo of her thoughts galvanized her. She scowled, grabbed a wrench from the top of the chest, and pointed it at him. “Get that idea out of your head, Ensign. You work for me, which means it’s not going to happen.”

  He stood straight. “But you want it to. Sir.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Don’t I?”

  “Smug bastard. Not every woman in this station wants to spread it for you.”

  “But you do.”

  She gaped.

  He licked his lips slowly. “I’m good.”

  “Get out of my face, Ensign, before I report you.”

  Smiling, he straightened. “Yes, sir. But please be aware that the offer stands.”

  She hefted the wrench, threatening to throw.

  Laughing softly, he saluted, turned, and left.

  Chapter Eight

  “Be careful with this one,” she warned Lieutenant Smythe, nodding her head toward Ange.

  Smythe laughed, watching carefully as the flight crew carried another crate on board. “No worries, Fox. If you trained him, he can’t be anything but good.”

  She snorted, then turned to Ange. The intense look in those green eyes made her keep her distance. She braved the look, though, and smiled. “And you watch out for Lieutenant Smythe. He looks like a teddy bear --”

  “Hey!”

  “-- but he’s a lot more like a real bear.”

  “And bears are a hell of a lot bigger than foxes, Lieutenant,” Smythe grumbled good-naturedly.

  She smiled. Today Ange left on his first mission aboard a real veeby. It was a simple cargo exchange and would be less than a month’s trip. He was, predictably, the first of his class to qualify for the advanced training.

  Ange didn’t return her smile. He gave her that same searching look he’d given her for the last three months. The months during which she’d ruthlessly avoided speaking to him privately. “I’m sure we’ll be fine, sir.”

  Beth nodded. She’d come to see him off like she would any trainee, especially one she was proud of. It wasn’t because she was attracted to him, and it wasn’t because she had a feeling that she’d miss him while he was gone.

  He stepped toward her. “May I have a word with you, sir?”

  She refused to edge away, even though she wante
d to. She kept her hands clasped behind her back and her eyes on the crewmen. “No, Ensign. You’re due to leave any moment.”

  He scowled. “I know. That’s why --”

  “You should get on board.” She gestured with her chin toward the ship. “Smythe is about to board.”

  “May I talk to you when I get back?”

  She braved a look up at him and saw the heat she’d been afraid would be there. She turned back to watch the crew. “We’ll discuss it when you get back, Dragon.”

  “Sir --”

  “Ange!”

  The sound of Colonel Werner’s voice took them both by surprise. Everyone within hearing in the dock snapped to attention as the big man sauntered down the walkway. He held one of his favored cigars to his lips, puffing through a smile. Werner waved everyone at ease, his focus on Drake. He extended his hand when he got close. “Ange, I wanted to personally wish you well on your maiden flight.”

  Beth blinked at Werner. He’d never done this before. She cast a sidelong glance at Smythe, who’d stopped at the top of the ramp into the ship. He looked as confused as she felt.

  “Thank you, Colonel,” Ange was saying. “I’m honored.”

  “Not at all, not at all.” Werner dropped Ange’s hand and turned to Smythe as the lieutenant hustled down the ramp. “Lieutenant, you’re headed to Sector 432, aren’t you?”

  Smythe stopped at Fox’s side, nodding. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good! Stop by Ulsechunkun and talk to the emissary there.” He held up the smoking cylinder between his fingers. “Have him send me some new cigars.”

  Smythe smiled. “Will do, sir. If you’ll excuse us, sir, we really should be going.”

  Werner flapped a hand at them both. “Go, go. Bon voyage.” He stepped up to Beth’s side, and they watched the two men board the craft.

  He waited until they were out of sight to speak. “I had to see it with my own eyes.”

  Beth turned to look at Werner’s teasing glance. “Sir?”

  He laughed. “Had to make sure that you actually let him get on a ship.”

  Panic frosted her heart. Did he know? Did it show? Had she shown favoritism? Had he seen the vids of her flights with Dragon? She kept her face and voice calm. “Why wouldn’t I, sir?”