Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

" Y es, Commander," I vow, the throbbing ache of my core reminding me how empty it is.

He hums in approval, reaches around to my front, and then shuffles himself so close I can feel the front of his thighs pressing against the back of mine. His cock rests heavily on the cleft of my ass and leaks warmth onto my lower back.

I press backward, making it slide with slickness across my skin.

His breath hisses out and then his finger slides to my scorching heat to find my clit.

"Mine," he groans, leaning over me and whispering into my shoulder.

My knees feel weak as he circles it, exactly how I like.

His fingertip is the only thing I can focus on, a hypnotic burn across my nerves as I start to roll my hips in tandem with my surging pulse.

I am rewarded with praises and how good I am when I cry out.

Slow thrusts start to rock against me where his length still rests, like he is having a hard time not stealing some pleasure of his own against me.

He rises up from being pressed so close to my back, rubbing my bundle of nerves faster, more brutally. I can feel him line his cock up to my entrance, the vulgar sound of my core almost sucking him inside.

But he holds it there, just outside as his fingertip circles my clit with blinding friction, making me moan and gasp into his pillow.

"That's it, Priestess. Come and I will give you more." He continues a constant steady pattern with no variation, knowing from past intimacies that I need more of the same touch when I am this close. He has no desire to tease and drive me crazy anymore; now he wants to make me come as hard as possible.

He groans as I buck back into his cock, wanting it to fill me up so badly.

My orgasm comes with little warning at the feel of him almost breaching my entrance. I whimper at the relentless rub against my clit, the heated sensation sending me over the edge and into white-hot bliss. The pressure is so overwhelming, my eyes roll back on their own, straining in the sockets.

Just as I am cresting the top, he sheaths himself inside me, so slowly.

My cries drown out his groan as he continues to rub my clit until I am finished, my walls clamping down on him like a strong fist.

I am gasping, trying to catch my breath, when he finally removes his hand from my pussy. It takes me longer than normal to regain my composure and for the ringing pulse in my ears to stop.

"I'm not done with you," he says sternly with a touch of impatience, but his amber light invades my mind with a calming caress and a question if I can go on.

I nod to answer both and lift onto my hands after sinking into the pillow while I recovered. Over my shoulder I find his face feral with need as he looks down at where we are still connected.

"You're being so good for me, squeezed me so well as you came," he commends as he withdraws slowly and then slides in again to the hilt.

His pelvis thrusts against my ass in a thump as he enters in another powerful motion.

I push back to steal rolling movements between each one of his blows. The smacking sound of him pounding into me increases, his pelvis bouncing off the softness of my backside and then plowing forward again.

His hand grips my hip as the other brushes my hair from my shoulder, using it as a steadying latch to hold onto as he increases pace behind me.

"Yes, 99. I love when you fuck me . . . hard like that."

My mouth hangs agape as he continues the forceful rhythm, driving into me like he will never tire.

I'm practically screaming his name when he flips me onto my back and descends onto my mouth in a feverish kiss before I can even look into his wild eyes.

"You look so pretty in our bed like this," he says in between kisses on my shoulder and neck.

I cling to him, lifting my hips, begging to be filled again. I don't have to wait for long because he reaches between us to shuttle himself inside and starts fucking me again.

"Please don't stop."

He presses his palms on either side of my head and starts rocking into me, wave after wave taking me over as he watches.

"Harder," I beg, missing the almost feral part of the other position.

Without hesitation, my hips are hitched up into his lap when he rises, wanting to take me not only harder like I asked but deeper as well. I hold onto his forearms as he adjusts us and starts crashing down into me with brutal thrusts.

"Hm, I love the sounds you make," he grits out.

At first, I think he is speaking of the uncontrollable keening noises he is withdrawing from me in this position, but then I catch the wet, squelching sound as he pushes into my body again.

I bite my lip hard to stop from feeling embarrassed because his expression tells me he does truly love the most vulgar parts of this, and it makes me even wetter.

"I can feel you so deep inside, 99." My fingertips graze upward from my pelvis to my lower abdomen.

His eyes flick to mine, completely blown out and black like I've said something utterly shocking. Then he presses a flat palm just above my mound and pushes down into the soft flesh, not breaking from his rhythm.

Somehow, that extra bit of pressure sends a tremor through my whole body, making my walls flutter around his cock.

He groans, letting me know he felt it too, and presses harder, thrusts harder.

Whatever he is pushing on with his warm hand, whatever he is reaching inside me starts the familiar coiling pressure of another climax.

I press my hands into the metal wall partition that acts as a headboard above to stop myself from bumping into it. With less give in our rocking motion, he fucks me with new purpose, making me press firmer onto the wall.

I'm too lost to tell him I am close, but he can sense it when my muscles start to pulsate around his length, and I know he is too by the way his thrusting picks up like he is chasing both our pleasure.

Mine overtakes me first with stars bursting into my vision as I close my eyes and get lost in the sensations of what he can do to my body.

He pumps into me over and over relentlessly, my walls a vice around him that continues to get impossibly tighter. He practically snarls at the sensation and plants his hands back on the mattress to bound into me as he comes.

I hold onto his corded forearms as he ravishes me. My orgasm is just finishing as I feel hot liquid filling me so completely.

With a final strong but shaky thrust, he collapses, turning his weight onto his elbows before he crushes me.

His head is buried in my neck, his gulping breath tickles my skin, but I pull him closer, not wanting this to end. Our entire room is cocooned in amber light and the smell of sex.

We stay silent, but I can feel him thinking the same emotions on repeat as his breathing evens out with mine. Happiness, contentment, and belonging.

I squeeze him tighter and try to hide a sniffle in his skin at the power of the last sentiment. I feel it too, at least my understanding of it. Something I thought I would never have, so unfamiliar.

"Did I hurt you?" He rises to look at me, panicked.

I shake my head and touch the scruff on his cheek. Then he leans in for a deep, all-consuming kiss, his tongue entering in a sweet motion for me to open my lips to kiss me deeper.

I pull away and he adjusts himself, tucking me into his side.

"Being in this room with you . . . it finally feels like home." I bury myself into the crook of his arm.

He pauses his hand and the light stroking of my shoulder, looking down at me with a tucked chin. His eyes roam over my face as he tries to process my words.

I know he has no answer when I feel his tether get stronger, enticing me to latch on and listen.

You have always felt like home to me.

I close my eyes, inviting him to the deep ease that spreads out across my muscles. Even my bones are cushioned and relaxed with each content breath.

Being in here, in this bed, reminds me of the warm reception the first time I entered his mind's eye, how right it felt, how I didn't know I had been missing something until I got a taste of life through him.

99 is still deeply sleeping when I carefully crawl out of bed and untangle my limbs. I tiptoe to the back of the aisle-like room and pause as he stirs, his big chest rising and falling in impossibly long breaths. If I'm not completely silent, he will jolt awake in defensive readiness, as if we are under attack.

I slip on his tunic and take a deep inhale of the smell lingering on the rough fabric as I enter the washroom. It's smaller than the one on the ship by more than half but somehow nicer, with polished black-chrome walls and fixtures. The lighting is an odd hue, and I recognize the control panel that can adjust the settings, but I'm not interested in changing them. I like being in a room that 99 has customized to his wants when he so rarely expresses them.

99 is sitting at the tiny table with his data pad when I come back out.

"Blessed morning." I stretch my arms upward.

He smiles, not taking his eyes off the message on the screen but still extending a hand for me to grab onto and pulling me into his lap. "Morning. Sore from training?"

I flex my hands, testing the muscles. "No."

"Good." He strokes my arm gently, but his mind is so open I can perceive his emotions seeping out into mine, like an affectionate, lingering hope that practicing my light eased the troubles brewing inside me again.

I kiss his cheek because he is so sweet under all that stoicism. "It helped a lot to practice. I can feel it getting stronger every time I use it."

"We can go there anytime you like. You did very well."

I sink into him savoring the praise and look out the small window that looks out into the Viathan pillar-like buildings around us. This little grouping of homes is modest and shadowed by the more important architecture around it, nestled away from the busy market, and I love it.

I select one of the apple-size fruits on the table, examining the round spikes that poke out of the orange flesh. "What is this?"

"Horn fruit. Don't eat the raised parts."

"Oh." I roll it around my hands, wondering how I'm supposed to eat it, even considering it too much trouble than it's worth, until 99 gently takes it, expertly removing the spikes with a flick of his thumb.

"You will like it. It's sweet." He holds it out, now smooth and ready for me.

"Thank you."

"That's yours too," he says with no indication to what he is referring to until he moves the steamy mug closer to me by its oddly shaped handle.

I can tell instantly what type of tea it is. One of the first things we did upon arrival was go to the Viathan herbalist. Neither of us have a desire for me to become pregnant, and after Crixa's comments about such a thing, I wanted to make sure I had the preventative tea immediately. Now, 99 makes it for me every time we are intimate without question.

"Thank you," I say and take a sip, leaning back into his bare chest.

"Maybe you should drink two cups this morning," he muses.

I almost choke at the crude joke and memory of how we continued on into the night and how many times he came inside me.

He smiles and continues to read the message until I am almost done with my tea, peeking over the lip of my mug to sneak a couple words. The script is odd, completely uniform, and void of any human touch except for the person on the other end pressing the commands for each letter. Details I never noted on Cosima have become so glaring here. I've settled with the inhuman feel of a lot of the Viathan conveniences and now view them as neutral aspects of this world.

He must feel the weight shift on his lap and know I am curious because he answers my wordless question. "Nothing too interesting." He tilts the data pad slightly toward me in case I want to continue reading with him.

Instead, I sink back down into his lap and feel the scratchy fabric of the pants he hastily put on and didn't bother to fasten all the way.

"But there is one from August." He kisses my shoulder. "Arrives today."

99 has mentioned how in and out of the capital August normally is, always running supplies on the other side of Viathan, where they harvest the metal for much of the technology used in their weapons and ships.

"When?" I ask.

"This afternoon. I'll send word to Allister."

The thought of seeing them all together has me smiling and jumping from his lap, and he grunts a little at the sudden change of pressure at his front.

I pull off his tunic and start to dress in the previous day's clothes. We will have to stop by our old room to retrieve my things. Space is limited here, but I have a few thin-fabric dresses that will take up barely any space in the little cupboard.

It's not often we get to be under one roof anymore as the conjunction gets closer, and everyone in the three worlds seems to be preparing for it and the chaos that it tends to bring.

Now that I have met 99's father, I want to spend time with him too. We can create a little family of our own here on Viathan.

I have to stop myself from getting weepy, thinking of how loneliness seems like a far-off concept now. I didn't realize how much it consumed my life before, how it soaked into the bone and ached like a physical injury. I still like my time alone, a habit maybe, but even then I crave 99's presence and long for our time on the ship where we had nothing to do but spend time with each other.

I am determined to no longer live in fear. I cannot shut myself away and fall back into the habit of isolation from the Estate. I have to fully let go of my old life. Maybe with time, I will return to the temple to pray, or do it in Calliape's forest behind her new home, or perhaps I will never pray again.

Right now, I want to cling to the people around me more than anything else. The very last string needs to be cut from my old life on Cosima, and I intend to no longer let it loom in the back of my mind, fear keeping me from putting down strong roots.

"You are finished then?" I tie the thin strings at my waist, then I glance up at 99 and find him staring at my fingers as they work the ties, data pad long forgotten, like he watched me dress from the very start.

His eyes travel up from my waist slowly until they meet mine with a half-smile. "The rest can wait."

"Well, I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it, Priestess?"

"I've been thinking . . . If there is time today—" My tone must be troublesome because I can feel his mind open like I've taken a battering ram to it. "I want to listen to the messages in the beacon room."

He nods with a furrowed brow, expecting there to be more. Originally when he offered to take me to the beacon room, I had no desire, content with them being relayed back to me, but now I cannot get the idea out of my head and how it may bring solid closure to hear the messages for myself.

"Will you come with me?" I touch his chin as he nods before I am finished. "Is there a way to erase them? I want to listen and then I want them gone."

His shoulders relax slightly. "You're certain you want them deleted?"

"This is my home now. Nothing the temple can say will change that. It may seem silly, but having them sitting there in the beacon room feels like a tether across the space between. Like it's still connected to me and won't give any slack, so I would like it cut. I do not want to be ruled by the fear they created in me anymore."

I could explain further, but I have no words for the strange pull. All I know is I want it to stop, and this is the only way I know how.

99 squeezes my shoulder, letting me know he understands. "I will take you this afternoon if you wish."

"Thank you."

His arms wrap around me in a tight embrace, his chin resting on my head. I can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat with my face pressed against his chest.

I am truly blessed to have such a sturdy place to fall as I maneuver who I am becoming in this world.

When I open my eyes again, I spot a curious package on his desk, one I did not notice before. The black box looks out of place and about the size of my palm with no dust on top of it like the items surrounding it.

" That's for you, Priestess," he whispers in my mind.

"What is?"

He laughs just a little and reaches for the package, a tiny morsel in his hand.

"Is this the thing Lady Anne said was delivered?" I run my finger across the fine fabric holding it closed.

"It is." He looks unsure as I take it from him.

The bow is a velvet ribbon remarkably close to the color of my light, which Lady Anne has never seen, so 99 must have been the one who requested this color. I picture him ordering such a specific bow in his stiff, stoic way of speaking, a task that would be normal to another person but painful but well intended for him.

I crack open the box and can feel him watching my face as I work. There, nestled inside a soft velvet bed, is a metal fern pin the length of my smallest finger, the light catching it just right and showing off the expertly carved fronds dancing in an elegant gold cast.

"It's beautiful."

"I saw it at the market, reminded me of you."

The symbol of a fern is not something I would think to associate with myself. A pen, a book maybe, and before perhaps an altar candle. A fern reminds me of Frith, Calliape running through them, her elegant lines.

Suddenly, my overthinking comes to a halt and I'm transported back to Frith. In the moss-covered ground with ferns sticking out of the green sponge, I can see myself walking and glancing back to smile at him as we hike the mountain.

99 is showing me a memory through his eyes as I watch myself lying in the field of ferns when he came back from scouting that day, my light unfurling from my hands like a fern frond blooming before I knew he was there. Then a vision of me running to him as he reached out.

I sway at the memory of crashing into him in an embrace, ferns brushing against my legs.

"I love it." I try to form more words to express how I am feeling but fail, too stunned by the gift and the intention behind it.

"Turn for me," he whispers.

I try not to let the tears brimming in my eyes spill over as I look up at him. I don't want to turn away even for a second and miss his expression. But he is waiting, so I reluctantly turn to the side for him to place it in my messy hair. He gently finger-combs through a piece and intentionally places it in a section, sweeping it back.

The fern is a symbol of how 99 sees me, not how I see myself. A symbol of us and the emotions we shared on Frith. Of the day when he came back for me, when I crossed the field of ferns to reach him, and the relief he felt in our embrace, knowing that I might feel the same way he did.

"Perfect." His hand draws over the placement of the pin and then across my jaw.

He seals the word with a kiss in a way that makes me think he wasn't just talking about the gift, and I know at this moment, I have never been happier or felt such joy as I do with him.