Grayson Sontang in Space Ch. 04

"We're not a team," she muttered, though she had to admit the thought of releasing certain tensions sounded awfully good to certain parts of her tense anatomy.

"We are now. I may have neglected to mention something."

Grayson stared at him. "Something worse that wormholes blowing up centimeters away and getting thrown around space at light speed and almost running out of oxygen?"

"Depends on your point of view, I guess," he replied eyeing her warily.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Okay. Hit me with it."

"The Feds may or may not be annoyed about the monarchy sending their problems into Fed space in the form of the prince. They may or may not be looking for us."

Grayson looked up in disbelief. "You mean that little shithead is contraband?"

"Yes. The SON you are carrying in your hold is contraband. Now, about that tension I mentioned..." Hendon took advantage of her gaping mouth and wide-eyed stare to twist her around on the bed and pin her down with his weight and a deep, long kiss. Long enough to distract her from thoughts of long-lost sons, Feds and mystery speeding ships. When she began gripping his arms instead of trying to push him away, he reached down to disabuse her of what was left of her pants. That went without protest, so he pulled far enough back to roll her tank top up and over her head, though getting her to let go of his arms so he could pull it entirely free was somewhat more challenging. The moment she let go of his arms, she was tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"Why'd you put the damn thing back on," she complained as they became thoroughly tangled.

"My magnificent chest was obviously distracting to the pilot."

"Full of yourself, aren't you," she muttered as she managed to disengage her arms.

"Said the super-nova to the nova," he countered.

Grayson reached for the snaps on his pants, but he grabbed her wrists. "Before I expose my tender parts to a potential full contact frontal assault, I want to hear you say it."

"Say what?" she demanded impatiently.

"Truce."

She glared at him. "Fine. One hour truce."

He shrugged. "I can live with that." He rose up on his knees to remove his pants and the protective equipment underneath.

Grayson grinned. "Did you really think I'd go low?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Smart man. Now, would you hurry up? We only have an hour."

He grinned, but this time it didn't set her teeth on edge like it usually did. Especially when he dove between her legs, spreading them wide, and making a feast of her pussy. In minutes, she was writhing, both trying to pull her way closer to his teasing tongue and trying to entice him to explore other parts in need of attention. It didn't even bother her - too much - that she knew he was grinning through it all.

"I heard a rumor that you like it from behind," he murmured against her nether lips.

"For the grand finale. I expect at least four or five movements before the operatic finale."

"Operatic? Who sings?"

"Me, if you're good enough."

"Ah, a challenge. I love it." He dove deeper with his tongue and Grayson gasped, wondering if Siriun settlers had evolved some prehensile ability with their tongues. They seemed awfully good at maneuvering them in tight spaces. When he returned his attention to her clit, his fingers replaced his tongue's deep explorations and in moments he had her screaming as her back arched impossibly high, an artifact of her judo training, so recently refreshed in her memory.

"I thought you said the operatic singing came at the finale?" he commented, feigning the thoughtfulness of a music critique.

"Oh, baby, you haven't heard anything, yet," she said pushing him back and diving on his cock like a starving vampire.

"Sounded more like a sick coyote," he replied, though not without a gasp.

Somehow, she managed to keep the head of his dick in her mouth as she replied, "You have no idea what a coyote sounds like, sick or otherwise." Having said that, she plunged down, sucking and humming around the full length of his cock until he was moaning.

"It hasn't been an hour yet," he rasped out. "Damn, Sontang!" He tried to push her away, but couldn't find the leverage, almost as if she'd planned it that way.

She smiled in victory as his come shot down her throat. She licked her lips and smiled up at him. "You've got about twenty minutes to recover, spaceman. I'm a very demanding trick."

He drew a deep, shuddering breath and pushed her away. "Don't call yourself that, damn it! How can you expect others to treat you with the respect you deserve if you don't respect yourself!"

Grayson lay on her back and laughed softly. "No one I've ever fucked - or been fucked by - has ever called me a trick. You won't, either," she said, looking over at him. "It's the ones I refuse that call me a trick, or whore, or..."

He rolled on top of her. "Then I better make sure I fuck you, huh?"

"Damn right, sailor," she agreed with a laugh.

He slid lower and set his tongue to work on her nipples, riding it out as she bucked and twisted under him. She tried to lace her fingers through his close-cropped hair, and when that didn't work, grasped his ears to pull him closer until his mouth closed over her small breast, drawing her nipple deeper, closer to the full force of his tongue's abuse. With his fingers, he twisted and pinched the other nipple but she only thrust her chest higher, demanding his attentions. "That the best you got, sailor?" she challenged, then yelped as his teeth pinned her hard nipple firmly and his tongue began an intense, rapid flicking that shot through her like an inescapable electrical current. She gulped for air like a spacer in vacuum, but when she tried to pull back, he held on, unrelenting, until she screamed his name.

When he finally released her with a grin, he asked, "Ready for the other side?"

She was gasping, her chest heaving, but when she caught enough breath to speak, all she said was, "Bring it." He chuckled and dove in, if anything teasing her other nipple to an even more tender hardness before sucking her areola in range of his teeth and bringing his tongue to bear. He splayed one hand against her back, preventing even the attempt to escape his tongue's assault, and his other hand slid down her belly and between her legs until she was impaled with two fingers and no amount of squirming or judo throws could free her from the sensory overload. She screamed his name again, but still he didn't relent until she was virtually begging him, in between wracking orgasms.

When he finally did relent, he backed off only an inch and stilled his fingers, before asking, "Who won?"

"Hour's not up," she replied, though it came out more as a hoarse whisper.

He rose up and without warning rolled her onto her stomach and straddled her back, beginning a deep muscle back massage that had her groaning in pleasure, then in arousal as his strong, large hands proceeded farther down her spine to her ass and tailbone. When his thumbs began to stroke along the crevasse of her crack and slide between her thighs, her groans changed to gasps. "Oh, fuck, Hendon. Oh, my fucking..."

He pulled her up on her knees. "This how you like it?" he asked, pushing into her without warning.

"More negative declination, sailor."

"You got it," he said, leaning over her even as she pushed back against him. He looped one arm under her, pulling her back up against his chest and began short, pounding strokes into her belly. "Wanna hear you sing, baby."

She didn't know from singing, but with each of his downstrokes, she was uttering a guttural, "Uh, uh, uh," until her arms collapsed on the mattress and it became just one, long, "Uhhhhh." And then a "Fuuuuuck!" He felt the shock waves roll through her body. She was rocking back and forth with them, and had returned to the "Uh, uh, uh," save the tone was more like a receding tide, rolling back out to the immense sea where it had arisen.

"I won," he said, leaning close to her ear. Then he straightened and began slamming into her, pulling back at her hips until she gathered herself and began pushing back against him on each thrust. He reached forward and palmed her breasts, easily encompassing them in his large hands. When he was almost there, he reached to pull her hair back, wrapping it around one hand, his other hand splayed against the small of her back. She obligingly dropped to her elbows, arching her back to give him even deeper access.

Grayson smiled as his grunts gave way to a long, low moan. He buried himself as deep as possible within and shuddered long and hard. She smiled secretly and silently mouthed the words, "I won."

****

Grayson strode onto the bridge just after Evans and Hal had made the course corrections and begun acceleration to match orbit with the prime planet. She glanced at the main screen, then down at Evans and Bogart, who was standing next to him and pointing out something on one of the monitors. They both turned to look at her, watching as she retrieved a cup of coffee from the dumbwaiter and took her seat at the command console. When she realized they were still staring at her, she scowled.

"What!" she demanded. They both snapped their attention back to the monitors in front of them. Grayson smiled to herself.