Belowdecks

She'd tasted herself before, of course, but somehow it was so much better mingled with the salty tang of Galva's skin. She wriggled contentedly, then shifted in closer to Galva, nestling in as best she could while trying not to get cum on his trousers. His arm curled around her back, holding her for a few quiet moments.

"You sure you hadn't done that before?" she said softly.

Galva laughed, his whole body rumbling pleasantly against her. "You flatter me," he said. "I'm sure I'm no match for your own fingers."

"Fair," Xanthe conceded, "but I can't kiss myself, can I? Or cuddle myself afterwards." Her fingertips danced idly on his belly, slowly drifting downwards. "Or..."

"Hey," said Galva. "You know you don't have to, right? I could lie here plenty longer."

"Come on, Galva," said Xanthe. "You're a gent, but we both know you didn't come here just to give me a handy. I mean, look at you."

Lying back, with better lighting, the fat, inviting bulge in Galva's trousers was finally visible, and it was exquisite. He was responsive, too. Even just trailing an experimental fingertip across the taut fabric made him tense palpably.

"Let's even the score a little, hm?" Xanthe suggested.

"Go on, then," said Galva, with a playful roll of his eyes. "If you must."

She undid Galva's belt one-handed (one of her narrowest but most useful skills) and unbuttoned his trousers just far enough to yank them and his underwear down at the front. His cock sprung free with a vigour that made her flinch back in surprise, but, once she had a good look at it, she couldn't help but touch. Galva was hardly superhuman, but his cock was respectably long and, more to the point, thick. Dark skin gave way to a brighter, shiny head, and he had a slight upward curve to him, which Xanthe realised she'd never actually tried before. Well, here was her chance.

A little pearl of precum was forming at the very tip, so Xanthe puckered her lips and sucked it cleanly away, drawing a poorly stifled grunt from Galva. Now that his cock was wet, it looked all the more inviting, so she couldn't resist dipping down for another quick kiss. And another. And then she kissed it again and stayed, inching down, pivoting herself around him so she could look him in the eye as her lips sunk down over his length. This turned out to be futile, as he'd thrown his head back to let out a proper, uncensored moan. Hearing that, she couldn't be too upset.

Xanthe felt Galva's hands in her hair again and smiled, as best she could with a mouthful of him. Again, he was gentle, but she could tell he was finding it tougher to resist this time, from the subtle fingertip twitches against her scalp. She worked him slowly, almost lazily, toying with him; she had one hand wrapped around him, tugging gently in time with her mouth, and she pulled away every so often so she could give him a few mischievous, teasing strokes and watch him buck.

"Fuck," sighed Galva, sinking deep into the mattress as Xanthe kissed and sucked away his tension. "Your mouth feels so fucking good, Ca- Xanthe..."

With a wet pop, Xanthe drew back and froze, leaving Galva's cock twitching against empty air. "What did you just say?" she chuckled.

"I..." Galva lifted his head to look at her, and seemed to be grabbing some composure back. "Hey, it was the heat of the moment..."

"Did you just almost call me Captain, Galva?" Xanthe's eyes widened and she gave his cock a couple of quick, taunting tugs. "Some outlaw you are!"

"Slip of the tongue!" Galva protested, though he was grinning too. "I don't take orders from anyo-o-ooooone..." He fell back against the pillows and grabbed the sheets hard with his free hand as Xanthe dipped back down and took him deep, kissing the base of his cock with a single stroke. This was her party trick, and it worked like a charm on Galva. She held her pose for just a few moments, then pulled away, panting for air and leaving him even slicker and shinier than before.

"I like it," she said. "But you can call me whatever you like, y'know. Xanthe. Xan. Or far fouler. I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

"I like Xanthe best," said Galva, easing himself up onto his elbows. "Pretty name. Rolls off the tongue."

"Just like you roll onto mine," said Xanthe. Not her best line, but perhaps if she went down on him again they could just gloss over it. Galva put a finger to her forehead, though, pausing her an agonising half-inch from the gleaming, tempting tip.

"You're good with your lips," he said.

"So good you're making me stop?" said Xanthe, puzzled.

"Let me finish," said Galva. "You're good with your lips, but, if you're open to it..."

Her ears pricked up and she tensed. "If you're open to it" could be the start of something exciting or a total mood-killer.

Galva cleared his throat. "Xanthe," he said, "would you like me to fuck you?"

That settled her. "Galva," said Xanthe, crawling up alongside him, "I've been thinking about how that cock would feel inside me since I first set eyes on it."

He looked back at her, wordless, thrilled.

"That's a yes," she added.

Galva slid off his side of the bed and squinted at the floor, picking his way through the mess, a vaguely comical yet still enjoyable sight with his shaft bouncing a little as he walked. Xanthe was about to ask what he was doing, but just then he dipped and hauled his coat from the floor, rifling through the pockets. A little brown paper bag. A dark green glass phial. She smiled. She had a soft spot for partners who brought their own gear.

"How do you want me?" Xanthe purred. She was already turning over onto her hands and knees, though; that was her favourite, and she hoped the display might excite Galva. She looked good from behind, blessed with a strong, taut ass and equally strong thighs to hold her up; she even liked the way her cock looked like this, half-hard again and swaying gently beneath her.

Galva laid a hand on her hip, and she arched her back sensually in response. "This will do just fine," he said. "Now then, let's get you warmed up..."

The next thing she felt was a single thick, slick finger pressed directly against her pucker, and this time, the arching of her back was involuntary. The lube was a little cool, but it warmed quickly beneath his touch, and it felt good, just the right balance of smooth and sticky -- not unlike cum, she thought, which made her dig her fingers into the mattress at the very notion. She supposed that, if Galva had access to contraband porn, high-quality sex gear probably wasn't that big a divergence. Then he pushed that fingertip inside her, just up to the first knuckle, and suddenly she didn't especially care how he'd gotten hold of his hardware.

He took his time preparing her, perhaps a little more than he needed to, but her occasional growls of "fucking tease" got him moving again, and before long he was as deep as his finger would reach, moving it in a subtle come-hither motion inside her. She enjoyed the sensation, but she had a feeling he was trying to get her off again, and right now that wasn't her priority. No, what she needed was to get fucked.

"Galva," she whined, "I can't wait any longer," but, just as she finished speaking, she heard the rustling and tearing of paper as he unwrapped a condom -- all this while still fingering her, showing impressive dexterity in those big, rugged hands. Her ass tensed around nothing when he finally pulled back, crying out for something to fill it again, but she didn't have long to wait.

Again, he was careful to a fault as he moved, bracing her against himself with both hands and easing forwards almost painfully slowly, but this time she needed it. Xanthe was no stranger to cock, but Galva's had to be one of the thickest she'd had, and it stretched her, not painfully, but enough to drive her wild. She grabbed a pillow and clutched it close, moaning into it louder and higher as he inched deeper until, finally, he was buried to the hilt. That closure, the feel of his belly resting against her ass and his balls grazing hers, brought a wonderful, overwhelming feeling of fullness, and a sigh of relief. In a sense, this was the start of what she'd wanted. Now he was fucking her, unambiguously.

Galva started to pull back and then drive back in, just partial strokes at first, but caution quickly gave way to his own lust. He felt huge behind Xanthe, a powerful engine slowly working itself up to speed, and soon he was drawing a soft "oh" with each thrust, grazing her sweet spot just enough to give her little shocks of raw pleasure without overloading her. He was strong, unyielding, and increasingly aggressive -- his grip on her waist tightened in short bursts, never quite hurting her but certainly making her feel pleasantly manhandled.

"Fuck me, Galva," she gasped, unable to think straight enough for anything more complicated, and he complied. She was trying not to make too much noise, partly for the crew's sake and partly because she didn't want to drown out Galva's voice. He was a growler, it seemed, letting out little excited or desperate rumbles when a stroke hit him especially hard, and Xanthe liked the thought of getting him so out of control, stripping away his slipperiness and baring his rougher, want-filled self. He was doing the same to her, of course, hence the tension in her limbs as her body teetered on a half-stable foundation of constant touch. Her cock twitched and jumped almost in time with his strokes, leaking more silvery precum onto the sheets. She usually couldn't get off solely from penetration, but it could get her pretty damn close.

Of course, that was mostly academic if somebody, say, reached around to touch her as they fucked her, which was what Galva did right as she was wondering whether to warn him. He didn't even really have to stroke her off as he'd done before, just give her a nice firm surface to rub against; his hand, already slick with lube, was a perfect candidate, and Xanthe found herself moving with him, letting his thrusts nudge her body forwards and grind her against his palm. Her breath caught in her throat, her balls tightened, and another orgasm caught her almost off-guard. This time it came with the extra kick of her ass tightening around the hard, unyielding length of Galva's cock, and, though she didn't have much left to give, the overall sensation was all the stronger for it.

She was always far more sensitive right after cumming, so she was grateful that, although her tightening around Galva hadn't gotten him off by itself, it had clearly gotten him close. She could feel it in his stance, a faster, more erratic stroke with a note of desperation, and his voice was rising in accord, a chorus of grunts and muttered curses that built to one long, continuous groan. Again there was a tightening inside Xanthe, but this time it came from Galva, pulsing and pumping and finally, just as she'd been thirsting for, spilling.

He held his position for a few seconds after the final spurts died down, resting a little more of his weight on her, then patted her ass twice and pulled slowly back. They both winced a little as he withdrew. The moment his hands left her body, Xanthe collapsed flat on her stomach, not even caring about the wet patch she was lying in, and Galva again eased himself down alongside her. He stroked her hair, mercifully with his non-lubricated hand.

"What's your verdict, Captain?" he asked.

Xanthe twisted her head round to look at him, smiling sleepily. "I think I should spend more time with dirty fucking smugglers."

* * * * *

It was not an endless night of passion. They were both tired, after all, and neither wanted to stay up too late; they had business in the morning. So they cleaned off, gulped down some sourleaf cordial to rehydrate, and simply lay together naked, talking, laughing, kissing. The closest they came to a second round was Xanthe reaching down to give Galva's cock a few appreciative little strokes as they drifted off together.

Xanthe set an alarm for first dawn, but ultimately they slept in until second before she finally admitted that she had to get moving. She and Galva dressed together, shared a final kiss against the cabin door just before she opened it, and then went their separate ways to take care of their respective errands on the Moonward Isle. It hurt, more than she expected. She wanted another day with him, or perhaps another week; it wasn't love at first sight or anything, but gods, he was fun.

Xanthe paid off her bar tab, grabbed a coffee to wake her up properly, and called at the stratograph exchange to make sure there had been no last-minute changes of plan. She did have a message from her corporate masters, but it was just a confirmation of her existing schedule; she envied them for having the money to burn on such non-messages.

When she came back to the Devil's Advocate to give the all-clear for departure, Rosa intercepted her on her way to the bridge. "Your man came back about an hour ago," she said. "He had to leave, but he said he had something for you."

Xanthe ran to the starboard side and peered down at all the little ships below. She'd never identified the You Shall Know Us, but a sleek, charcoal grey propeller barge was in the process of disembarking. The name on its hull, though she couldn't make it out at this distance, looked very, very long. It was already well out of its berth, about to spin up to cruising speed and set sail for the Biarchy.

Rosa ran after her. "Captain," she said, thrusting a brown paper package into Xanthe's field of view.

"Thanks, Rosa," said Xanthe, stowing it in her satchel. "Alright!" she said, louder this time. "Byron, how's the hold?"

"Leaky as ever, Cap'n!" barked Byron.

"Salty, how are the winds?"

The navigator sniffed the air and held up a finger for a few seconds. "Good enough," they said.

"Good enough!" crowed Xanthe. "That's what we like to hear. Spin her up, Adi. Devil's Advocate, let's make some money!"

Once they were well underway, Xanthe sat down cross-legged on the bridge and opened the package. Inside was a book with a plain black cover, bound, it seemed, by an enthusiastic amateur. She opened it, and on the title page, beneath the badly off-centre coverplate, was a little note written in a heavy, stiff hand.

Little light reading for your trip. Until the winds. -- G.V.

"Until the winds" was skyfarer shorthand for "until the winds bring us back together". Xanthe smiled. She had a hunch that she hadn't seen the last of this scoundrel. Perhaps, some other time, she'd head back to the Moonward Isle and see if she could find Galva's supplier, track him down that way. But that would have to wait. They had a shipment to deliver, and, right now, she had an appointment with her bed, the rest of Galva's lube, and The Vice of Saint Alexandra.