“Any change,” asked Yul, dressed in her customary black leather leggings and light grey ribbed tank top. She wore no undergarments in her own quarters and, quite frankly, didn’t need any.

“Afraid not,” said Rog. “Highly active REM sleep, otherwise nothing out of the ordinary if you don’t count sleeping for a week kinda odd.”

Rog walked over to the port window in Yul’s quarters. His eyes looked without seeing. Sights that would have blown him away passed before his eyes as simple sensory impressions. Kieran was gone. Kyra, well, who knew what she would be like when or if she woke. Neraj seemed like years ago.

Yul moved behind Rog. Placing her arms around his waist she pulled herself tight against his back. Her warm soft flesh pressed against his hardened muscle. Warmth transferred between the two and Yul let out a small sigh—it had been more than a week.

“What’s on your mind darlin’,” asked Yul, running her hands through Rog’s hair, her breasts rubbing against his back as she raised her arm. Each long stroke of her hand sent a tingle directly from chest to hip.

“A lot has changed in a short period of time,” answered Rog, enjoying the warmth of Yul’s body. Her hard nipples teasing his flesh and mind with delights promised, delights offered, delights for the taking. Why he didn’t have her face down on the bed right now, working her taut tight body as it begged to be worked, working the stress from his burden, stroke by tense stroke, puzzled him. I suppose, he thought, there was a first time for everything.

“Does anything ever stay the same?” Yul whispered in Rog’s ear letting the warmth of her breath communicate a sense of intimacy. He turned ever so slightly toward her whisper as his lobe nestled between her lips. Yul gently suckled before seizing the moment and biting down. In a coordinated move that a first lieutenant would have been proud of, her hands secured the low ground. A two prong attack.

Rog closed his eyes with a deep sigh. Yul sucked on his lobe, her tongue dancing about in ways that only indicated intent to advance. Rog had known many, but Yul and her enticing purplish-green mane moved him in ways he would have gladly ransomed his soul to experience. And she knew it.

“If you keep doing that, I would have to say no,” answered Rog, rotating his hips forward, which had the net result of pressing his firm glutes into Yul’s midsection. Trying to maintain balance, Rog rotated his arms behind Yul’s back, interlacing his fingers.

Yul’s lips traced small tender kisses along Rog’s external jugular vein, which seemed to be bulging just a little more than normal and consistent with the overall situation. Her tongue flicked back and forth along the vein in movements rapid and slow, a solitary tango of tongue and skin. She had his attention, a feat that had eluded her for the better part of a week. As her kisses moved back toward the hinge of his jaw, her nails likewise traced the contours of his rock hard abs.

Moving her nails from his abs to his nipples, which were about as far as she could move her hands with his arms locked behind her, she lightly grazed first the left nipple and then the right. Taking her index finger and thumb from both hands she took each nipple between her fingers and slowly squeezed, twisted and pinched. Rog let out a soft low moan, his eyes closed and head tilted back. Yul increased the pressure with each rotation of her fingers, wringing out each and every nuance of nerve sensation, twist by twist. He would be sore in the morning but that didn’t much matter now.

Yul rose on tip toe to meet his open lips with hers–a light graze, soft skin against intimate tenderness—an invitation without wait. Eyes opened not to see but to feel. Passion became palpable. Breath intermingled and then with a loud bang, they came crashing to the floor.

“Damn,” said Rog, “I knew that was going to happen. You all right?”

Yul laughed as her hands combed her hair out of her eyes. “Don’t think anything’s broken but I might need a little extra attention around my hips. Think you could be of service or do I need to call for the cabana boy?”

Rog rolled over on top of Yul pinning her to the floor. “Well, my dear, you call the cabana boy and I’ll go check on Em’s private art gallery. I understand she has done some rather erotic work no one has seen yet. You know she’s been asking me to come see.”

Yul tried to slap Rog but he caught her wrist in flight. He pinned her arms to the ground as she put up a mock struggle trying her best to rotate her hips to meet his.

“Well, when she—“

Rog didn’t let her finish. Pressing his lips firmly against hers, cupping her upper lip between his, he gently bit down as if to say you started this beotch, now I’m going to finish it. And Yul had him right where she wanted him.

Categories: Story, Yul, Rog.

Advertisements