Marginal Life Ch. 01

That thought is dangerous. Can't let myself linger on it.

Using Doc's routine, I try to see in myself what Stefan and Marian do. Stefan appeals to my emotions. He calls me slim. Lithe. Graceful. Desirable. Beautiful even. Marian appeals to my logic, that many Markers grant little to no curves. That others stay skinny, unable to build muscle their whole lives. The Umiran royal line and their Celestial Markers are evidence of that.

Another deep breath. Again. Relax.

If anything can affect my feelings, it's their words. Knowing Stefan will be with me tonight, I try to feel them. Am I slim, not skinny? Am I lithe, not underfed? Can I be desired? For a tiny, brief instant, I begin to consider it. I use this. Fan it. Try to make it grow. I shift just a little, hoping I can spot some grace, some poise. Not sure I succeed. The attempt feels good. Makes me settle in the direction I want to be.

Holding these thoughts, focusing on why I'm here, doing what I am, it becomes a bit easier. Another deep breath (Doc's best lesson). Relax. Hold the feelings. Deep breath in, focus. Let it out, relax. Repeat. A few minutes of this and I feel more at home in my nudity, calm settling in.

A sense of anticipation rises, letting me know it's time to move on.

Stepping into the connecting bathroom, I trigger the shower. Pleased at the water's nearly instantaneous rise from lukewarm to pleasantly hot. Considering how thoroughly I rebuilt Marge's bitchy old heating and distribution system, it had better be fast. Ignore that said rebuild led to one of my stays in the healing beds. Stepping under the spray, I begin to thoroughly wash, enjoying a long soak. Water is rationed while in flight, the near unlimited use while docked feels luxurious.

Unwinding my hair from it's usual braid, I fluff out the pale strands to give them a good wash and comb. Now, at last, I come to my last bit of prep, and also the last bit of reality I have to face. Between my legs, and what exists there. To note, the only evidence I have to being biologically female. No. This is the time for directness. I face it. That I am a woman.

I shiver. Too much. My calm shifts, panic crawling about the edges of my mind. I try to back off, focusing on my shower, on anything else.

Thoughts of Marian. She says I'm just like everyone else down there, and she's spent a fair bit of time making sure of it. Up to and including making sure I received a block after my monthly cycle started. No, I don't know how the block works, it's Fae hocus. I just know that it stops the cycle until I'm ready to have children (so forever). Standard issue for anyone serving on board ships, or any number of other places really, along with regular disease checks.

The dry, clinical thoughts do the trick. I remember to breath deeply. The panic fades.

Settling my thoughts on the purely mechanical, I return below, making sure I am clean everywhere I intend Stefan to be. My actions combined with memories of past visits start to heat me up, just a little. I shy away from confronting it directly. Just another thing I work with the Doc about.

I step from the shower. Toweling off, I decide a light nightgown from the storage chest is in order, reflecting how I settled earlier. With that, I'm ready. I head to the bathroom one last time, cracking open the hatch to Stefan's quarters just long enough to hang a small white ribbon inside on the hatch: a long agreed upon sign that I'm here. Marian has one too, hers is blue. I scramble back to the other room and dive onto the bed for a quick nap, the wall clock telling me he won't be off duty for a while yet.

***

The shower is loud through the deliberately open hatch, waking me as I intended. A quick glance at the clock tells me I've been asleep for a few hours, putting it after the evening meal. Knowing that if I roll around a bit and twist to the side I can watch him showering. I test the temptation. Sometimes I give in. Today, I wait.

Stretching, I marvel at the soft fabric of the nightgown sliding along my skin. I feel good. Very good. More settled even than usual. I know exactly what Doc would say: the routine is good for me, I should be doing it every day. Not just when I want to have sex. I wonder if the nap helped to set the feeling more firmly. Maybe the exhaustion from my episode helped, beating down my normal stubbornness. Yet another thing to ask Doc about.

Thoughts for later. For now: Stefan.

The water shuts off. I hear him moving into his own quarters, then sense more than hear him sneak back to peer in at the bed where I lay. He tries to be stealthy sometimes. He usually fails. I can tell by his actions that he had seen me sleeping and didn't want to wake me. I don't know if he considered the noise of the shower would wake me up. Being honest, sometimes it wouldn't.

Catching his eye I beckon him forward, offering a shy smile. Truth be told just seeing him has me heating up, but I know he likes to start slow. Stepping out from the doorway, he moves to join me, only a light pair of shorts covering his bronzed form.

I use that word deliberately, as he often reminds me of some heroic statue. Being a ship captain marks him as a member of the nobility. More specifically, a member of an entire caste of families that have spent the last five hundred years using meritorious service as selection requirements to breed. As cynical as it sounds, they do produce the finest officers ever to fly the skies.

Much taller than I am, a solid six feet even. Well built but not overly muscled. Dusky skin, perpetually tanned. Wavy brown hair. An easy smile. Poised. Confident. Stefan oozes charisma without even trying. Everything about him speaks to the noble ideals, calls out to his ability to lead. The cynical call nobles born politicians, the ultimate con artists. If he possessed even the smallest portion of deception or cruelty, he'd be incredibly dangerous. But deceptive or manipulative he is not. It's why he captains a cargo ship, not a warship. Strategy and deception are jobs for Marian and I. We've been a team for twenty five years. He leads, we guard his flanks.

As he crawls over the edge of the bed, I shiver in anticipation. Moves up past my legs, he straddles over me, hands planted on either side of my head. He looks down with a grin, his green eyes piercing right through me.

"Hello beautiful. Have a good nap?"

My insecurities flutter away. Right now, with that look, those words, he can make me feel desirable. It's all I can do not to lunge upwards and consume him. Instead, I bring my arms up to circle his neck, pulling slightly to invite him to me. He bends down with a chuckle. I grab a quick kiss, feeling him lick my lips lightly in response. Trying try to return the favor, he pulls back, forcing my attention on his words.

The smile still there, still obviously happy to see me, his eyes dim with a touch of sadness.

"You had me worried. Marian says it was all routine repair work, "just" a couple broken bones. I saw how she looked. You have to be more careful with your moods."

And there it is. He can't truly understood my episodes, not like Marian or the Doc does. Despite being a born leader. Despite being innately a people person. He tries, but my mind runs too differently. Feeling tears threatening to form at the sadness in his voice, I do my best to head him off before it sets me off.

"Stefan, " I sniffle. "I'm sorry. But you have it wrong. It worked. It WORKED. We passed through an air pocket I was coming in for a landing."

Success in an endeavor he understands. Luck being a fickle bitch he understands. I see it in his eyes as he accepts my excuse, moving it from "your moods got you hurt again" to "diced with Luck and lost." Make no mistake, it IS an excuse. Just one he can accept.

"I've missed you my kitten. You spend entirely too long in your projects." Ouch.

He's right. Our last time together was almost a month ago, just before my episode. Haven't visited Marian for even longer. Another item added to my list. I need something to put us back on track, or we'll spend the night crying.

"I...I..." I stammer a bit, strangely at a loss. "I missed you too." Not my best. "I need you. To love you." Not what I meant to say, but an improvement. One of the truest things I've said all day. His answering smile warming the room noticeably. Or maybe just me.

Feeling the mood shift, needing to continue, I do my best to pull him down to me. For a moment I have no luck as he resists. He weighs nearly double my own slight form afterall. Then he relents, and I recover my denied kiss. Moving my tongue, trying to capture his, I'm rewarded with a burst of the incredible flavour that speaks uniquely of Stefan. Part cinnamon, part peat smoke, part brine, more that I can't describe. Marian claims not to taste it, and whenever I point out she has her own unique flavour (she's absolutely delicious), she declares it part of my Marker.

A few kisses later Stefan isn't at all surprised when I push on him to roll us over, allowing me to kneel next to him so I can lick down his arms, around his shoulders, and down his chest. He wears an amused smile now, the earlier sadness forgotten. Or at least stored for later. Thoroughly filling myself with his unique flavour, I turn a bit to move towards his shorts. Working the drawstring knot, I feel a tap on my head.

"Arms up!" He commands.

Without turning, I shift my weight to lean back just far enough to comply, allowing him to strip my gown off in one swift motion. Shaking my head a little, he reaches in and softly combs my hair back into place, the light tickle of his fingers along my scalp making me shiver. Slightly misinterpreting my response, maybe on purpose, maybe not, he moves his hands to my sides and back. Working to calm invisible goosebumps, his hands smooth and warm. Mentally throwing out my original plan, I hop up to straddle him mid chest, still facing down towards his shorts.

Returning to work at his drawstring, I feel his hands roaming across my back and shoulders, slowly working downwards towards more interesting locations. He slips them around to my stomach, then up. Pausing just a moment over my nonexistent chest. Then around and back to my shoulders. Massaging in earnest now.

The knot in the drawstring continues to resist my efforts, I swear he ties them weird on purpose. Finally I claim victory over it, then nearly collapse in a puddle as he finds a knot in my back to work out.

Trying not to purr, I decide it's time for a command of my own.

"Legs up!"

I can feel his grin as he complies, and I strip off his shorts. Not as smoothly as he stripped me but just as effectively, leaving my quarry laid bare before me. Not too large and not too small, a solid six inches of shaft, he's nearly ready for me. I lean down, effectively laying on his chest so that I can bring him to my mouth. I can never understand the complaints of bar butterflies about this. The unique flavour that is all him, the slightly salty aftertaste, the soft rubbery texture of his head, the yielding skin over the solid shaft, everything combines together into one overwhelmingly enjoyable experience. I lose myself for a bit, enjoying myself immensely.

Many a time I have brought him to completion just like this, enjoying the intense burst of his flavour, mixed with the saltiness of his seed. Not this time, as a sudden brush against my core causes me to jump with a muffled squeak, a reminder there are other considerations for the night.

"Scoot back."

I consider his suggestion, of surrendering my current meal. He brushes me again, closer to my button, deciding in his favor.

Planting my hands for leverage, I scoot back just a little, allowing him the access he wants, even as it denies me of my own. Sometimes more than others I hate being short. Moving one hand to slowly move along his shaft, I drop my head to his stomach and purr as I feel his tongue go to work. My Marker leaves me overly sensitive in some places and less so in others. While his fingers circle my button, threatening sensation strong enough to shift to pain, his mouth on my outer lips much more muted. Right up until his tongue pushes inside, making me shiver all over. That, I felt.

As he sets to in earnest, I begin to get the distinct impression that he intends to really work me over, retribution for scaring him I suppose. Or reassurance I'm okay. My pleasure building, I lay almost bonelessly on top of him, my meal forgotten. Wiggling his tongue with abandon, I swear I can feel him writing poetry, one letter at a time. Approaching my crest, he feels me trembling, moments away from falling over the edge. He slows his efforts, attempting to prolong the inevitable. Shivering all over now, I know I am repeatedly making a short breathy squeak that Stefan calls cute and Marian thinks is adorable.

With one final lick, he withdraws his tongue. I tense just a bit, knowing what comes next. With a quick push he blows directly on my button, and I explode. Having somewhere along the way released his shaft without realizing it, I ball my hands in the bedsheets and silently scream as loud as I can, falling and falling without end.

***

Sometime later my breathing finally calms to something resembling normal. Finding myself still lying bonelessly on his broad chest I attempt to roll off, with little success. A pleased chuckle from behind me, and hands under my hips and chest easily lift me, shifting my slight weight. He spins me around so we end up face to damp face.

"So little mouse, was that a nice hello?"

He's definitely feeling cocky, though I can only muster enough energy to purr at him in agreement. Knowing I need some time to recover, he settles me back on his chest, then returns to massaging my arms and back. It has a feeling of reassurance rather than desire this time, a confirmation that I really am alright. Summoning a little energy, I give him a few licks around his lips and chin, cleaning myself from his face and reaffirming his flavour in me.

Finally, feeling under me that he has yet to find his pleasure, I rally my strength for the main course. Now able to prop myself up, I reach under a nearby pillow, drawing out a small bottle. When he sees it, he knowingly reaches for it, and I surrender it to his capable hands.

Feeling more direct with myself, I consider what's to come. I greatly enjoy oral. I generally dislike "normal" sex, my feelings getting in the way of enjoyment. Fortunately I have a third option, with lots of bonuses going for it. My feelings that everyone can experience it male or female. A sensitivity that I consider one of the few benefits of my Marker. A lover willing to accommodate my quirks. It all rolls together. I love it. Be direct. I love anal. Anal with Stefan.

Behind me Stefan pops open the bottle, the aroma of lavender and mint filling the air, joined with a mysterious third component I've never been able to place. The Brownie chemist I buy the oil from refuses to tell me. He messes with me on purpose, spouting some nonsense about the spirit of nature, being in harmony with all things, on and on and-

I jump and purr, a slick finger diving between my cheeks and across my rosebud a cold reminder of priorities.

I shift my legs forward to either side of his chest, allowing greater access. Up and down he slides, the oil warming to match my body's heat. His fingers pause, then create a ticklish sensation that nearly startles a giggle from me. I never giggle. Ever. Giving him a Look, he relents. Fingers tapping against my center, it's time to relax. With a push, his middle finger rides the oil's slickness in, my rosebud eagerly parting for him. A low moan, almost like the rumbling of an earthquake, sounds from deep in my chest. I needed this.

"You like that, don't you little kitten. Would you like some more?"

Even knowing he's only teasing me, I still feel my moan shift towards a growl. Pushing against his invading finger just a bit, I demand more of what he can give. He rewards me, his middle finger drawing back just far enough to add it's neighbor. For just a brief instant, the added thickness is nearly too much. The moment passes, the stretch settling into a pleasant burn. Nearly exploding seconds later as he flexes his fingers apart, opening me nearly to my limit.

I spend a minute panting into his chest and shivering, enjoying the feeling of him inside me. Inside my ass. He knows the effect he has on me, he radiates smug satisfaction. I imagine his smirk, more than ready to steal it. Time to try. Raising up, scooting backwards just a bit, I position myself over him. He slowly withdraws his fingers, the emptiness nearly unbearable. Shifting slightly, he moves himself into position. A moment of contact. A moment of pressure. A looming sense of urgency. A surrender. A groan, this time his.

Readied as I was, oiled as he is, the head slides in easily. My weight enough to ease me down, sliding almost the entire length in the initial push. Drawing a gasp from me and a surprised moan from him, his grin vanishes. I feel the sudden tensing of muscles below me, as he resists driving upwards. Bending forwards slightly, I place my hands on his stomach, both in support and reassurance, resting only briefly.

Having vanquished his grin, I claim victory. My reward: the rest of his shaft. Easing slowly onward, I take it all, my tingling rosebud planting a firm kiss upon his base.

Closing my eyes, time slows down. I revel in the supreme fullness of him. Of his shaft. His... his... cock. The feeling all consuming, dominating my senses. And yet, a bit different. Different than being on my knees, welcoming him from behind. Missing the feeling of shelter, of protection, as he looms over me. Instead, a feeling of control. Of domination. Yet not. Meeting Stefan's gaze, I can tell he's not sure either. Knowing how he thinks, knowing speech will soon be hard, I throw out a provocation.

"Is my steed ready? Can you bring me to my destination?"

With a growl and a moan, some from me and some from him, he takes the offer of control. We move. His grip on my hips. My legs pushing for leverage. His own thrusts rising to meet me. Working in time. The angle just right, the pace slow but building.

Immediately I feel a peak approach, well primed from his fingers. Knowing Stefan to be nowhere close to his own. I try to coax it on fast, as fuel for the grand finale. Reading my desire, he moves a hand to my core. Pushing in two fingers, he strokes my inner walls. The suddenly dueling sensations pull me apart. Sucking in a startled breath I lock down, slamming against him as I fall over the peak. Trembling, I collapse forward, nearly spreadeagled on him.

He knows he surprised me, the smirk returning. Damn him. Allowing me to rest, he continues to move. His hands return to my hips, supporting me without effort, allowing my legs to shift just slightly back, easing the strain.

"That... Was... " Words are barely possible. Slowly, one at a time, manageable only between thrusts. His own voice silent.

"Fuck... Fuck... Me... My... Fuck!" I've lost it, making no sense.

Faster and faster he thrusts, roaring towards meltdown. A final thrust. A second. Pushing deep, pulling me tight. Almost curling himself up around me, suddenly chest to chest, nearly face to face. Just within reach to lick a bead of sweat from his neck. He explodes, his cock pulsing deep within my ass. Only moments away from my own peak, I whimper.

"Please..."

Barely more than a breathy whisper, doubting I am even heard. Sudden pressure below me, a hand snaking between us, stroking my overly sensitive button. My clit. It's too much, too fast. Edging into pain. And yet, lighting the fuse. Detonating explosions: deep within me and far up in my mind. Muscles fluttering, seeing stars. Milking Stefan of the last of his seed, my grip on his cock tight, so deliciously tight.