After four of the most intensive and exhausting months of his life, Preston had come to love his day off more than anything else in the world. He loved his morning shot of caffeine, he loved his weekly allotment of alcohol. Though he hadn't yet used the word, he loved his girlfriend Missy, and he would readily admit that he loved screwing her as long and as frequently as possible. Even with all of that, on some days, while drenched in sweat and still pushing himself on the training courses, or while biting his lip in frustration trying to outmatch the drone simulator, he would keep himself going by fantasizing about his next Sunday. This Sunday Preston had decided he would stay in bed until lunchtime...first sleeping in far later than he should, and then playing or reading on his personal screen until the buzzer intoned the lunch tone. The thought kept him going throughout the week, and he spent his entire free hour on Saturday making up his remedial reflex training just so that he wouldn't have anything to do on his beloved free day.
Thus, when a pair of cold feet against his legs shocked him awake in the early hours of the morning, he was incredibly upset.
"Freezing fucking bitch!" he mumbled reflexively, gazing through blurry eyes at the red lights that indicated it was 0407 hours. He turned to find Missy next to him, scooting between the sheets and snuggling down into the blankets, "your feet are frozen!" His plans had *not* included being woken up so early, and now that he was awake he knew it would take him forever to fall back asleep. He gazed down at his girlfriend crankily.
"It's cold," Missy agreed, scooting next to him and nestling beneath his arm. She was already half asleep, and Preston frowned at the unfairness of it.
"Hey, nuhuh, you woke me up, you don't get to just cuddle as if you're not sucking the heat out of my bed," he growled.
"But I brought another blanket," Missy yawned, "and you're so warm and it's so cold."
"You'd feel different if you had as hard a time getting to sleep as I do," Preston grumbled, and Missy opened an eye and observed him for a moment.
"I'm sorry I woke you up, and for sucking the heat of your bed," she mumbled, "later today I'll suck something else to make up for it," she reached up and flicked him across the nose, hard enough that it hurt, "and don't call me a bitch."
"You can't just use sex to get your way with everything," Preston began to protest, but a quiet snore told him Missy had already fallen back to sleep. *Lucky bitch.* The thought was angry, but as he looked down at her peaceful face he couldn't help but also feel affectionately amused.
All things considered, his early wakeup wasn't as bad as it might've been. He slipped his personal screen from its pocket by his head and browsed the network for a few hours, reading a few guides on formation flight tips, despite his promise to avoid all things training. As rough as the lessons had been, Preston enjoyed flying, a carryover from being raised by a pair of mechanics. When he was a child he would "help" his father by handing him his tools to
repair shuttles, or occasionally sit with his mother in her study as she worked on designs. Of his classes at the Academy, the ones that came easiest to Preston were the ones that had to do with ships.
Although it was perpetually cold in the barracks, the extra blanket and the warmth of his girlfriend pressed up beside him left Preston quite warm. The heat was almost too much; in her sleep Missy shifted, pushing the blankets down to her waist. Preston finished reading and shut down his screen and, knowing he wouldn't fall back asleep, leaned back and enjoying the warmth and silence. Missy's shirt had ridden up her ribcage in her sleep, exposing a strip of pale skin up to just beneath her breasts. Resting his head on one hand, Preston began tracing a finger back and forth across her exposed skin, letting his mind wander. Despite his plans for laziness, he would probably wander to the shooting range or the firing simulator later in the day, perhaps try to beat Alex's shot record…
His musings were interrupted by Julia leaning over the edge of the bunk above him. She had the sunny smile of a girl who knew she didn't have to work all day, and her gold-blonde hair was so long it fell almost halfway down to his bunk. Preston was reminded of some surreal fairytale character.
"Morning Preston," she whispered.
"Hey Leftie," he whispered back, and Julia made a face. Her right arm was still in its rigid plasticine case, so she extended the middle finger of her left, but she smiled.
"You're up early."
"Got an early wakeup call. A cold one," Preston nodded down, continuing to move his fingers across Missy's stomach.
"Oh jeez," Julia gave the sleeping girl a look somewhere between amusement and pity, "she's got a little bit of 'clingy' in her doesn't she."
"Yea," Preston halfshrugged, "a bit. I don't really mind. I've never had that in a girlfriend."
Julia didn't reply, she just looked back and forth between Preston and the sleeping brunette, an amused expression on her upside-down face.
"What?" Preston finally asked, defensively.
"Nothing, nothing," Julia put her left hand up, still smiling, "I just really never would've guessed you two would get together you know?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know, she's just all innocent and cute and annoyingly sugar-sweet, and you're...well...you."
Preston grinned, although he wasn't quite sure if his friend meant the sentiment as a compliment or an insult. Either way, he knew she had his best interests at heart. Julia was the only one of his squadmates with the same irreverent sense of humor and cynical outlook on life, and they had been fast friends since their first few weeks. Looking up at her frank but questioning (and upside-down) face, he reassured himself that she wouldn't mock him if he answered her statement honestly.
"She's different from me, that's a good thing," he said slowly. Julia tilted her head questioningly, and Preston struggled to communicate his meaning, "if you spend all your time with someone who's the same as you, well how are you gonna change as a person?"
"Why do you have to change for her?" Julia challenged.
"I'm not changing *for* her, I'm just...I'm with her because I *already* want to change, you know? I don't want to go through my whole life being the same person, no one should. You gotta grow into a different person." *It always sounded so much better when Mom said it,* he thought,
frustrated. He wished he had inherited her grasp of words instead of her green eyes.
"I liked you just the way you were," Julia pronounced, putting finality into her whisper, "If you were that hard up for some action I would've thrown you a pity fuck or two if you had just asked," she was grinning, and Preston couldn't tell from the expression whether she was joking or not.
Either way his frustration was growing. *Why is it always so fuckin' hard for people to understand what I'm trying to say?*
"I'm not with her to fuck her. Not *just* to fuck her," he amended for the sake of honesty, "is it so hard to believe I actually think she's a cool girl?" He realized he had raised his voice beyond a whisper as his squadmates began to stir, and he dropped his volume "Is it really so difficult to imagine I might want to grow as a person?"
"Alright alright, calm down, jeez," Julia whispered, "Date who the hell you want, it's your call. I guess I just always pictured you with a girl who could satisfy you."
"I'm plenty satisfied," Preston whispered back, "Missy takes care of me."
"Okay, then a girl you could satisfy without you changing yourself to do it. And really?" Julia raised an eyebrow, "she's just the perfect little minx who is dynamite in bed? *Missy* is?"
Preston stayed silent, knowing his face was sullen and wishing he could hide his feelings better as Julia continued.
"She's just the complete package huh? Totaly trying out one kink after another, bedroom so new and spicy it's like you've got a new girl every night? Not a single kink you have left untried? You've done that 'conference room' thing you told me about?" Preston internally cursed himself for ever telling Julia about his little fantasy.
"I'm not just a talking penis you know, there's more to our relationship than just the sex," Preston knew that Julia would take it as an admission. The fact frustrated him, and her smirking face wreathed in blonde locks seemed a lot less cherubic. He tried to think of blonde fairytale villains.
"I know you're not. I'm sorry, I didn't meant to say you were." The girl's apology surprised him? he couldn't remember Julia ever apologizing for as long as he knew her. She even *looked* apologetic, "I'm not trying to be bitchy Preston, really. Well, I kinda am, but I always get bitchy when I'm trying to talk about important things. You know what I mean. Missy's a nice girl, but she just doesn't seem right for you. You're more adventurous and less reverent, and it seems like you're doing a lot more changing for her than she is for you. I just don't want you to get hurt when things...*if* things goes south."
"Fuck you Julia."
"Look can you honestly say you're happy with how you've changed?"
"Yes!"
"Can you look me in the eye and tell me you're satisfied? Both sexually and all that other emotional bullshit too?"
"Y..yes," Preston had to think about it for a moment, but he realized the answer was true. He was unused to thinking of himself emotionally, but the fact was despite the flaws, Missy made him happy.
"Can you say things couldn't possibly be better?"
Without waiting for an answer Julia swung back up to her bed, and Preston laid on his back, staring at the bunk above.
"What kind of bullshit question is that?" He asked. The response floated down softly,
"Just a question. If it makes you pissy maybe you already know the answer."
"Of course things could be better, everything could always be better," Preston replied hotly, "we could have two days off like the other rookies. She could be a little more daring, a little less mousy. I could have double luxury credits and servants to wash my fuckin' feet every day. Just because something isn't the absolute peak of utter perfection doesn't mean you should give up on it."
There was silence for a moment, and Preston silently swore. The squadmates all had a level of closeness, but Julia was his best friend on the orbital. *Why does she have to do this now?*
"Doesn't mean you should give up on making it better," Julia said quietly, "if you stay with her, don't give up on making it better. For you or her."
"You really are trying to help out aren't you."
"Of course," she sounded surprised, "why else would I be saying it?"
"Dunno," Preston admitted, "you felt your bitch skill rusting and needed some practice?"
He grinned as her hand dropped over the side of the bed, middle finger extended again.
His hand was still resting on Missy's bare stomach, and he noticed that her breaths weren't as deep or steady as they had been in the night. When he glanced up at her face, the slightest flicker of Missy's
closed long lashes confirmed the seed of doubt in his stomach. *Fuck,* Preston's idyllic and stressfree plans for the day seemed to melt away as he became more and more certain, *she's been awake this whole time.*
***
Preston wanted nothing more than to be alone. Breakfast had been hideously awkward, as Missy had been more upbeat and cheerful than she had any right to be, even on a day off. Preston brooded, angry at Julia for making him question things, and angry at Missy for pretending she hadn't heard. As soon as he could make an excuse to leave the table he stormed off, wandering down the hallway with no particular destination in mind. Promise or no promise, he found himself in the firing sim soon afterwards. The room was huge and quiet, and it was easy to lose ones' self in its expanse.
Preston moved to the weapons locker by the door, flicking the double doors open and scanning the array of nonlethal training weapons within. Though his gaze moved across the double row of weaponry, but his focus elsewhere. Were his squadmates really commenting about his changed persona behind his back? Did it matter if they were? Julia's words were weighing him down, and Missy's chipper and cheerful demeanor made him frustrated whenever he thought of it. *She was awake. I'm sure of it. She heard us talking. If what Julia said wasn't true, if she really thinks we're both good for each other, why hasn't she said anything? And why hasn't Julia said any of these things before? Fuck, why is she saying them at all?*
"Fuck women," he snarled, yanking a railpistol from the rack and slamming the doors closed.
"Reaffirming your mission statement Preston?" Preston almost jumped at the voice that echoed from further down in the room. He peered at the end of the dimly lit expanse, only now seeing the shadowy figure at the other end, fiddling with a row of target orbs. As his eyes grew accustomed to the distance and light, he faintly made out olive skin and black hair tied in a loose long braid.
"Alex. The fuck are- I mean, what are you doing here?" Preston grumbled, making his way down the long room to join her by the orbs. Though he still swore in his head and around Julia, he was trying to cut down on it when around other squadmates. Missy said it made him sound rough...the thought of changing for Missy made him mentally curse again.
"I like it here, 's quiet," Alex said, not seeming to mind his language, "plus it's pretty clear no one's gonna beat my accuracy scores in a cruiser, so I thought I'd give y'all a challenge for your firing sim scores too."
Preston, the current second in cruiser accuracy, repressed a scowl, pulling another set of four mechanical training orbs from the wall. *Come on Preston, gotta make an effort, gotta try.*
"Um, same here," his voice sounded awkward even to himself as he input his name and password to each orb, "since we're both here anyways, you want to do some coop doubles training?"
"You sure? It'll average our scores if we fight coop, pull ya down an' me up."
"Yea it's fine," Preston cleared his throat, "you'll probably beat my score eventually anyways."
"True," Alex joked, as the small spheres hummed to life, lifting from the table in front of them.
The orbs floated motionless for a moment, taking readings of the room and their human targets, then shot off in different directions. They were only about as big as Preston's head, and the hoverjets installed in each were enough to propel them at a startlingly fast pace.
Alex lifted her rifle and fired as they flew by, but her shot went wide, the EM bullet shattering on the far wall with a small electronic sounding "ping".
"Soo," Alex said, as the two of them moved forward, "...'fuck women' huh?"
*How about mind your own fucking business,* Preston kept himself from snapping out the first response that had come to his mind.
"Um...yea, ignore that," he said instead, as they crept along the wall cautiously. The orbs were using the columns and walls scattered around the giant room to keep out of sight, waiting for the opportunity to strike.
"M'kay," Alex responded, keeping her rifle raised and sweeping the room
"It's just, I'm having issues with your gender today is all."
"Hmm," was all Alex said in response. They remained silent for a few minutes as they moved forward, so Preston heard the hum of the sphere behind him. He spun around and squeezed off three shots in fast succession...the first and third went wide, but the second clipped its edge. With a small mechanical wheeze the orb lowered to the ground, neutralized. Before he could even turn back around Preston heard Alex's rifle go off twice, the pause in between letting him know that she had aimed more carefully. The two she had targetted gently drifted to the ground, and Preston gratefully noted that Alex said nothing about their relative accuracy scores.
He was feeling much better. The exercise, running and twisting, combined with the visceral satisfaction of firing the heavy railpistol and feeling the kickback, had a calming effect on him.
Another of the targets hit the ground with a small click, taken down in a single shot, and he began feeling truly at ease.
"Thanks, by the way," Preston grunted, stepping behind a column for cover.
"For what?"
"Not pushing me on the whole thing. Letting me just get it out of my system."
"You clearly don't want to talk about it."
"Yea well, it was nice of you not to try to make me."
"Hmm," Alex said again, thoughtfully, and then with a friendly smile she brought the rifle up, took careful aim, and shot Preston in the shoulder. The bullet was nonlethal, but it slammed into him with such force that it knocked him backwards, toppling against the column behind him.
"FUCK," Preston yelled, as pain blossomed along his arm, "what the FUCK did you do that for?"
"Well, you don't get along well with people who are too nice," Alex said calmly "I needed to even out my good deeds."
"What do you mean I don't get along with nice people?" Preston flexed his arm as he stood to his feet, "in case you hadn't noticed, *Alexandria*, I'm dating Missy," he stressed her full name, knowing she hated it.
"Yea, and then slamming things around and screaming 'fuck women' to yourself," Alex pointed out. Preston stared at her for a moment, and she casually fired off three rounds in quick succession, taking out an orb that had been cautiously moving forward. Much as he wanted to be angry for the sting in his arm...she sort of had a point. Even now, looking at the matter-of-fact face of the girl who had just shot him, he had to supress a grin. It *was* kind of funny.
"So you shot me to be my friend?" He asked sarcastically.
"Well, yea. It seemed the thing to do. Did it work?"
"Kinda. That's pretty fucked up, isn't it."
Alex laughed, and after a moment Preston laughed too. Two spheres swung out from behind a pillar, one to the left and one to the right. They both fired at the left one, but Preston's gun was light enough that he managed to squeeze off a second to send the rightmost careening off-kilter
into a wall.
"Okay since you're being all friendly, tell me this, why would a friend try to imply that your relationship is shit?"
"If your friend thinks your relationship is shit, it makes sense to tell you."
"Oh, so you think my relationship is shit too?" A target peeked out from behind a column, and Preston angrily squeezed off a few rounds that landed where it had been.
"I'm just answering your question. I warn my friends when they're in a relationship that seems unhealthy."
"Do you think mine is unhealthy?"
"Hey Preston," Alex had been motionless, staring down her sight at the column, and when the orb peaked out again she took it down with a single shot, "it seems like you're dancing around a few questions you want advice on. We can continue doing that if you like, but if you want my advice, why don't you just ask?"
Preston was surprised at the straightforwardness. He mulled it over for a few seconds, and after a moment's consideration, he shrugged.
"Julia thinks Missy is changing me."
"She is changing you. You already knew that, that's not your question."
"Well yea okay she's changing me, but she's not perfect either! There are some things that she could change."
"Like what?"
"She could be more adventurous. She could be more sexual. A little less clingy maybe?"
"M'kay. So what was her reaction when you told her this?"
Preston scowled, pumping off four shots in quick succession at a sphere that floated near the floor. He was the only one of the rookies who had gotten the hang of using the heavy rail pistol; the delicate mechanics within would often lock up if the user didn't time the shots well. To Preston the machinery was fairly straightforward once it had been explained to him, but the rest hadn't been able to get the hang of it. *Too bad I can't figure women out that easily...*
"Preston?"
"Okay, fine, no I didn't talk to her about it," Preston snapped. He glanced over and saw Alex looking down her sights, but she was grinning. "Yea, okay I shouldn't judge her on things I haven't brought up, I get your point." Alex didn't say a word, but she continued to grin.
"Okay, then explain this; this morning I was talking about it with Julia, and I'm pretty sure she was awake the whole time! So she *does* know, why wouldn't she bring it up at breakfast?"
"Cover me?" Alex asked, and she ran forward toward the middle of the room, taking shots at orbs that had been hiding behind columns as she went. The movement caused the training spheres to reposition, navigating to remain hidden from Alex but exposing themselves to Preston in the process.
"She should've brought it up," Preston repeated, focusing on aiming carefully rather than quickly so that each shot brought a target down.
"Brought what up?" Alex asked, swinging her rifle around to hit the orb with the butt. The sphere ducked beneath her swing, and Preston took careful aim and shot it from the air.
"All of this stuff!" he replied as it slowly lowered to the ground, "all the stuff she heard me talking about with Julia! Why wouldn't she talk about it once she found out I hadn't....been....bringing it up...." He trailed off. Alex was standing in the middle of the room, grinning at him.
"You have a pretty smart-ass way of not saying anything, you know that?" Preston grumbled.
"I get that a lot," Alex smirked.
The screen on one wall began displaying stats for the completed training session. Alex hefted one of the orbs and began carrying it to the table as Preston watched the numbers scroll by. He hadn't done bad.
"Your smart-ass silence helped though," he begrudgingly admitted, "so...thanks."
"Careful there Preston, you're starting to sound too nice. You wouldn't want Missy to change you!"
She chuckled as she lifted the orb up to its rack on the wall. Preston grimaced at her back, sighted carefully at her backside, and pulled the trigger.
“OW! Preston you fucking suck!” Alex screamed, spinning as she rubbed her lower thigh. She was glaring, but the corner of her mouth was already quirking upward in a half-grin, “*and* you still suck at aiming, if that was meant for my butt.”
Preston shrugged and grabbed another sphere from the floor, a smile on his face. Alex stepped over and grabbed it from his hand, “Give me that. I'll clean up in here, you go talk to your girlfriend.”
“We should hang out more,” Preston gave up the sphere, “you give off this big mysterious vibe, but once I actually talk to you, you're pretty cool.”
“Yea, I get that a lot too,” Alex muttered as Preston headed towards the doors, “plus it's not all out of the goodness of my heart; if you're not around I don't have to worry about getting nailed with a rail pistol again.”
“Oh it's coming,” Preston grinned, “you'll get nailed when you least expect it.”
“Preston, I have a favor to ask, and this can't be the first time you've heard a girl ask it of you,” Alex responded with a deadpan look, “please don't nail me.”
Preston laughed. Between her and Julia, maybe there *were* other squadmates with his inappropriate sense of humor.
“Oh that sealed the deal,” he joked, “and next time, I'm nailing you right in the ass.”
He turned to the door to find it open, Aimee and Missy directly on the other side. Both looked severe.
*Fuck fuck shit fuck,* he thought, stepping through and closing the door behind him to cut off Alex's laughter, *Why does shit like this always happen just when I've figured things out?*
"That...wasn't what it sounded like-" he began, before Missy cut him off.
"Of course it wasn't Preston, I know your sense of humor. Despite what you might think, I'm not some paranoid, clingy mess." Preston winced. *Okay...so I've figured things out, now how to fix this?*
"Right...look, Missy, can we talk?"
"I was just about to ask the same thing," Missy's look of severity softened a little, and she turned to Aimee, "thank you for the talk Aimes. It helped a lot. I'll catch up with you later."
*'Tell you exactly everything that was said' later, you mean,* Preston thought, but he didn't say anything as Missy took him by the hand and led him down the hallway.
***
"Where are we going?" Preston asked, as she led him past the turn to the rookie barracks. Missy didn't answer, and he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad sign. They continued through the smooth metal hallways, following a path Preston didn't know. After a few minutes they arrived at a dead end hallway, and Missy thumbed the controls of one of the rooms, adjusting its light and tempurature, before gesturing for Preston to go inside.
The lights came on as soon as the room detected a presence. It was a large conference room, spacious and comfortable, with a huge wooden table taking up a large portion of space in its middle. The door slid closed behind them, and Missy stepped over to the large table, moving a few chairs aside and then hopping up to sit on the edge.
"I'm not mad at you," she said.
"That's...good?" Preston said cautiously, putting his hands in his pockets.
"I just wanted to tell you that up front. I have some things to say, about our relationship, so I just wanted to make sure you knew I wasn't mad at you. I'll say my stuff, and then you say your stuff, and then we're going to work out our disagreements like adults, and *then*, we're going to have sex right here," she tapped the table beneath her, "which is *apparently* a fantasy of yours."
"That sounds fine," Preston replied, *I'll get more brownie points if I apologize for something before she mentions it...* "except I want to say my 'stuff' first."
"Okay," Missy agreed, "as long as we stick to the 'adult discussion' part afterward." Her chin was raised, and she was wearing an expression that seemed at the same time confident and terrified. She was clearly going to stick up for herself no matter what, and was *also* scared to death of doing so. The expression was so adorable that Preston smiled in spite of himself.
"I shouldn't be expecting shit from you when I haven't told you what I'm expecting," he said, "it's not fair to act like you can read my fuckin' mind." Missy looked surprised, and Preston wondered guiltily how infrequently he admitted he was wrong that she was so shocked by it. "And," he added, "sorry for calling you a bitch this morning."
"That one was understandable," Missy smiled, "it was really cold."
"Yea well, that's my stuff. You go."
"Um...that was pretty much my 'stuff' too," she said, a little uncertainly, "I wasn't expecting you to have realized what was bothering me. The only other thing that I have to say is that it really hurt to hear you talking so frankly with someone about things you'd never mentioned to me. Especially someone who thinks you should break up with me."
Preston took a deep breath, "I'm not going to stop being friends with Julia. She's one of my best friends in the Academy, she's like me. I won't throw a friendship away like that."
"I wouldn't ask you to stop being friends with anyone," Missy held up a hand placatingly, "I'm just asking you to...you know, talk to me. Let me know what's going on."
"I can do that," Preston moved forward and wrapped his arms around her where she sat on the table.
"I'm glad."
They stayed in each others arms for a few moments, and all of the frustration that Preston seemed to have seemed to release from his shoulders.
"So...a conference room table huh? What's that about?" Missy's arms slid down to his waist, and one hand cupped his rear.
"Oh I dunno," Preston leaned back a little, embarrased, "when we had that orientation meeting four months ago, when we first got here...I just thought what a perfect height it was, where it would position the girl. And there's the thrill of doing it in a place we're not supposed to. And the chance that someone might catch us."
"Just so you know," Missy leaned back as well, sliding her shirt up over her head and tossing it on the floor next to the door, "if that happens, I am going to be too mortified to have sex with you ever again."
Preston grinned, taking in the sight of her bare breasts as she sat in front of him. The room was slightly colder than was comfortable, and her small pink nipples were hard. The sight of them made him harden, and the way she sat against the edge of the table meant his bulge pressed against her. Missy smiled, and he leaned in to kiss her, rubbing against her as he did so. Without breaking the kiss she began unclasping his pants with nimble fingers. His hands slid up her sides and over her naked chest as she pulled them and his underwear off of his waist, and when he gently pinched at her nipples, she made a small sound into his mouth.
The sound and the cold air against his member were enough to make Preston's heart pound. He knelt and tugged at Missy's waistband, and she lifted to allow him to slip her pants and underwear off of her.
"Cold table," she murmured sofly as Preston stepped back, admiring the view as he tossed both pairs of pants into the pile by the door. Missy kicked her legs back and forth over the edge of the table, fixing Preston with a shy smile while he looked her up and down. Her brown hair hung in curls to her chest, almost framing her small pale breasts. Her legs were pressed together due to the cold, but when she saw him looking she spread them apart to let him see the patch of curly brown pubic hair above her pink lips. Preston stepped forward again, yanking his shirt off, and she wrapped her arms around him as they resumed their kiss.
Preston could feel every contact between them, and the feelings were warm and urgent. He felt Missy's breasts pressed against his chest, her arms around him, her fingertips gently sliding across his back, and her sex, hot and wet against his length. Her hips were making small motions that dragged her slit across his member, and he could feel her making quiet moaning sounds even as they kissed. His lips moved to a cheek, then near her ear.
“What do you want?” He whispered, even as the grinding of her hips told him the answer.
“You know what I want,” she responded, breathless.
“Tell me,” he commanded.
“I...I want you,” she said, and Preston grinned into her brown curls.
“But you already have me,” he teased.
“You're really going to make me say it?” Preston was sure he could feel the heat of her cheeks as she blushed, and he purposely pulled his hips away from her, his grin widening.
“Goddamnit Preston,” Missy whispered, “your cock, I want your cock, I want you inside of me right now.”
She was so wet that when Preston pushed forward he entered her with no resistance, just wetness and warmth. Missy cried out, fingernails digging into his back as she held him close. Just as he had imagined, the table was the perfect height, leaving her directly in line with each thrust. Each time he pushed inside of her it elicited a moan, which made the fire in him rage all the more. Preston forced himself to be careful, to push into her rather than slam his entire length as hard and fast as he could. With her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his back, she was pulling him into her body as rough as she wanted, and the pace was perfect for him.
Missy let go of him and leaned back, and Preston was treated to the sight of her entire body. The blush on her face matched the sweet, quiet moans, and each time he thrust forward her breasts jiggled appealingly. He had passed the point where he could contain himself, slamming forward harder and harder on each thrust, as deep inside of her as he could go. Missy was clearly loving it, moving her hips back and forth to meet him blow for blow, and she threw her head back as she gasped with the pleasure. Her pussy began trembling as the orgasm hit her, and the tight feeling of her quivering sent him over the edge.
He grabbed her as he came, pulling her close to him. Her breath in his ear, her nails digging into his back, and her skin against his skin was a backdrop to the pleasure that locked his whole body up, feeling the pulse pounding through his length. His body released, filling her up as they both cried out.
Preston came down from his pleasure high slowly, relaxing and gently letting her back down on the table. She laid back, panting, and gave a small whimper when he slipped out of her. He looked her over as she lay on the table. Her eyes were closed, and he watched her naked chest rising and falling, a light sheen of sweat all over her body and a smile on her face. *I should grab my screen and take a picture,* he thought with a satisfied smile, but he didn't want to risk upsetting her. Instead he just stood there, enjoying the sight for as long as she wanted to lay there.
The door began to chirp confirmation noises as someone outside set the room's temperature and light levels. Preston didn't even think, and judging from Missy's surprisingly quick reaction neither did she. He lunged for the pile of clothes, picking them up and sliding them across the desk to wipe up sweat and fluids, throwing them underneath the table as Missy opened a storage closet in the side of the room. They both slipped inside as the conference room's door slid open. The closet's door wouldn't close if it detected life forms inside it, and Preston prayed whoever it was didn't notice the small crack as Missy held the door as closed as possible with one finger.
Someone stepped into the room, whose lights had dimmed. Preston heard muted footsteps, and the small click of an object being set on the desk, and he braced himself. Apparently the single quick wipe had removed any offending streaks or stains from the table's surface, or at least the dim light hid what was left. The figure sat down heavily in the chair at the end of the table, and Preston was finally able to see the man's face. It was General Auspus, highest ranked pilot and commander of Orbital Academy.
Missy must've recognized the man as well, since she stiffened. Normally the sensation of her bare butt sliding against him would be exciting, but in this circumstance he only hoped the tiny noise wouldn't be overheard by the General. If it was, he made no indication, leaning back in his chair and passing a tired hand over his eyes. It was widely rumored that expensive surgery or illegal biomodification was the reason the eighty-year-old man looked no more than twenty, but even with his youthful face, his expression at the moment showed his age. No matter how smooth and fresh his skin, the man looked weary, weighed down and the picture of stress and worry. *But why come here? Doesn't he have his own quarters? Wouldn't they be more private? If he wants a nap, why keep it a secret?*
Something out of Preston's sight on the table sparked with a small 'pop', sending a bright purple pinprick of light into the air. The spark settled on the General's face, and as it slowly burnt out the General showed no indication of noticing it. Another popping noise, and another spark drifted lazily through the air, this one landing on the hem of Auspus' sleeve. For several long minutes Preston watched, confused, as whatever it was on the table kicked off a slow and steady stream of the purple sparks. At one point the stream was so thick that it lit the General completely, his face shining eerily with the purple illumination. Throughout it all the man simply stared off into space, acting for all the world like nothing out of the ordinary were happening.
Eventually the flow of sparks slowed and came to an end. The General stayed for a few moments longer, then leaned forward and collected the item, stowing it in a pocket. Heaving a sigh, he stood and moved out of sight of the closet, his footsteps moving towards the door. The conference room door hissed, there was a pause, and then it hissed again. Although he listened carefully, straining his ears, Preston didn't hear a sound besides the barest of whispers that were his and Missy's breathing. The room's lighting rose, moving back towards its default, and with a sigh of relief he followed as Missy opened the closet door and stepped out into the room.
Preston's adrenaline kicked into overdrive the second he saw the terrified look of panic on Missy's face, her hands flying to cover her naked breasts and crotch. He didn't have to look towards the door to know what he would see, but his gaze was drawn as if by magnets, even as his hands moved to similarly cover up. General Auspus stood inside the room just in front of the closed door, arms crossed, a blank look on his face. Preston opened his mouth to speak, but no words came to mind. *Say something, idiot. Do something, say anything, anything is going to be better than this stunned-fish silence, and it's not like you can make the situation any worse than it already is right now...*
“Rookie Preston Kalinowski,” the General spoke in a clear and clipped tone, “and Rookie Melissa Dorson.”
“S-sir,” Preston said, instantly hating himself for the brief stutter, “allow me to explain-”
“Did you know,” General Auspus continued as if Preston hadn't spoken, ”that as the orbital's commander I can, at any time, restrict a Rookie-level from continuing their training on said orbital?” Preston didn't know how to respond. He was stunned, his thoughts were moving sluggishly, and he knew he should say *something*, he just didn't know what.
“I don't even need to have a reason. I could prevent either of you from graduating to Pilot-level because I didn't particularly like your haircut.” Preston vaguely noted that Missy was hyperventilating. *She's going to suffer just because she was trying to make me happy,* he realized. His stomach was already in knots, but a wave of guilt felt as if someone had punched it. *I can't let this happen...*
“Sir, if I may-” he began, but again the General spoke as if Preston hadn't started talking,
“If I *did* need a reason to prevent you from moving on, and again I will stress that I don't, finding two Rookies buck-naked in a private conference room would certainly be reason enough, reason that no authority would question, let alone argue against.”
*Say something do something don't let her dreams be crushed because she was making you happy!* A voice inside Preston's head screamed. It occurred to him how horrible it would be if he himself were kicked out, returning to his parents disgraced and expelled, but he pushed the thought aside impatiently. This was about Missy, about keeping her from trouble; he was willing to pay for his mistakes if only he could keep her from punishment.
“It was my fault-” he began, but he wasn't surprised when the General continued.
“Thus, it is incredibly lucky for you that neither of you made the staggeringly poor choice to be buck-naked in this private conference room.” He gazed at the two of them impassively as they stared, confused. “It is astoundingly lucky that you both decided not to take a tryst here. It is amazingly fortunate that you saw nothing transpire afterward.”
“Because if anything happens to indicate you had...if any mention is made to a friend or a colleague...if any discussion circulates in any way about something you may have seen after that tryst...then obviously I would be forced to follow protocol and expel both of you from Orbital Academy. And if I were forced to expel you both, I would feel inclined to pass on my disgust to any potential employer, on any orbital in orbit.” The room was silent for a long moment after the General made his speech. With a sudden movement, General Auspus turned and stepped through the door, his face never wavering from its neutral expression as it hissed shut behind him.
Missy sunk to her knees as Preston stared at the closed door, dumbfounded. *What was that? He's just letting us go? In exchange for not telling anyone about the sparks?Why do they matter?* Preston stepped over to Missy, who had begun trembling. He wrapped an arm around her, and she leaned against him, still shaking.
“I don't even know what that meant...I was so s-scared,” she whispered, her breath catching. Although he wouldn't admit it, the prospect of being removed from his training, cast out and with little chance at a job, had rattled Preston far more than he would expect. Even so, he was more concerned for Missy, who was looking up at him with tear-filled eyes as her entire body shook. He went to grab their clothes from beneath the table, casting his mind about for some stupid joke he could make to take her mind off of their recent scare.
“I'll tell you one thing: after that? I am *never* letting you have sex with me ever again,” he said. Missy gave a strangled laugh as she took the pile of clothes he offered, and he grinned back, even as he felt sick to his stomach.
“Oh really? I'm sure I can change your mind about that,” she replied with a weak smile.
“No way. I am resolute on this,” Preston yanked his pants back on, slipping his shirt over his head with his other hand, “you'll have to try and try and try to get me to do so. Hell you'll probably have to fuck me for days before I agree to it.”
“Just for that I think I'll make you beg for it,” Missy teased, and Preston noticed with satisfaction that she had stopped shaking, “but....n-not here, okay?”
“No, let's go back to the barracks, not here,” Preston agreed, and the two of them made their way from the room at a pace slightly faster than a walk. On their way out Preston cast a glance over his shoulder. As the lights dimmed, he caught sight of a small singed hole on the chair the General had been sitting in, as if one of the sparks had landed and burnt right through. “Definitely not here.”
***
1 comments:
I wonder what the purple sparks have to do with the story line?
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