Moontender

"You're not faking anything, Mela. You're the best we have."

We sit on the floor, him rocking me like a baby. I don't care how clichéd we look. No one can see.

"I have to go home Spec," I whine. "I'm just... I'm so broken."

"No. You're Earth-sick. There's a difference."

We stay like that for what feels like half an hour, until my tears dry and exhaustion overwhelms me. I'm vaguely aware of Specter lifting my body into the hammock and unbuckling my boots. He tucks a blanket around me and disconnects all but one of the overhead lights. Then he combs his fingers across my scalp and, as a final gesture, kisses my forehead.

The hatch opens and shuts. He is gone.

Sleep succeeds him, accepting me without reserve.

4.

Something touches my ankle. I open my eyes.

"Six and a half hours," Specter announces softly, anticipating my first question.

"Jesus!" I croak, sitting up.

"No, you're fine. I checked on your guys. They're good. And one of the tugs' charging cables wasn't working, so that's pushed your departure back another three hours."

"You're lying."

"No," he answers, checking his wrist. "You still have around seven hours."

"I'm late anyway. I have to go."

"Up to you, of course, but I did bring these..."

He raises a mesh sack into my line of sight. Rations for two and wet-wipes.

I'm on the verge of standing but stop and glance between him and the bag. You know you're far from home when wet-wipes are an instrument of seduction.

"You need to eat anyway," he goads me.

I sigh and ease back into the hammock, rubbing my eyes. "Fine. How long did you say I slept?"

"Six and a bit."

"Wow. I don't know when the last... time... I..." A yawn cuts me off.

"No problem," he says, handing me an MRE and a fluid pouch, "Eat up."

I accept the food. "You forgot the candlelight and wine, Romeo."

"I'd suggest a little less sarcasm, actually. Unless you'd rather I share these precious wipes with someone else."

I raise one eyebrow at him, now fully awake: "Oh really? That's interesting, Spec. I didn't realize you had so many admirers up here. It's a wonder it hasn't gone to your head."

He grins in the dim light. The heater cycles on again.

We eat without talking much. The quiet around us feels like a vacation. Infinite. Spiritual.

As soon as I finish my MRE, I snatch the pack of wipes away from him.

"Hey!" he protests.

"Trust me. You don't want to know how dirty I am."

"Uh... yeah I do."

"Jesus. What are you, eighteen?"

I stand and rip open the long Velcro flap covering my jumpsuit's front zipper. I pull the O2 hoop away from my face and in less than five seconds I'm down to my thermals.

"Slow down," he protests. "I'm trying to savor this."

"The food?"

"No, this moment... when you get all naked and wild for me."

"You're confusing reality with your dreams again. You might want to talk to Doc Modson about that."

"Actually there're a couple dreams in particular I was hoping you and I could..."

"Jesus you're... I'm pretty sure I don't want to know how I feature in your dreams these days."

I peel my thermal top off over my head. Specter's eyes dip to my chest and remain. His jaw shifts sideways. I start scrubbing my bare skin with a wipe.

"You do remember," I say slowly while rubbing the wet cloth all around my breasts, "That technically I outrank you."

He smirks. "So, you want me to start calling you ma'am?"

"Not unless you want very unfortunate things to start happening to you. No, I just... thought I'd better remind you since it's probably not appropriate for you to be staring at me so lasciviously."

"Lasciviously? What are you, a fucking thesaurus?"

I turn away to hide my grin and start scrubbing my neck and face. I close my eyes. It feels wonderful to be getting clean.

"I guess we all have weaknesses," he says, suddenly over my shoulder. I feel his hands circle my ribcage from behind. He cups my boobs, whispering: "Why don't you let me help?"

"I can manage, you freak."

His hands move lower, teasing my waist then venturing beneath the elastic of my thermal pants. It's enough to make me shiver. My shoulders roll forward in a shrug, crowding my breasts together.

"Hmm..." he purrs near my ear. "You should really let me help you."

I say nothing. I can't admit what I want. I have to trust he knows.

Silence means...

His hands push down, sliding my thermals off my hips until they fall. I sense him sinking behind me, kissing his way down my spine all the way to my tailbone. Only my panties remain.

More kisses land across my backside and down one thigh. His fingernails trace my calves, tickling behind my knees. Then they drag up the outside of my thighs.

I reach around and clutch his hair while my other hand holds the hammock's rope for balance. He silently kisses each side of my butt, getting closer and closer to my center.

I feel the straps of my underwear being pulled down. A gasp escapes my throat. It's the last sort of noise I should allow myself up here, but it comes out involuntarily, like a confession.

"Wait..." I whisper, trying to reclaim some semblance of self-control.

"No," he answers. "You stand still."

I hear him yank a couple of new wipes from the container. I grab the hammock with both hands. He starts cleaning my legs from the knees down, eventually pulling my crumpled thermals and panties off over one foot at a time. Then he scrubs my feet.

With a fresh wipe in each hand, he stands up behind me and tenderly cleanses my thighs and crotch. My eyes close. I suck my lower lip between my teeth. It's all I can do to keep my knees still.

In less than a minute the stupid wipes are on the floor and Specter's dexterous hands are touching me directly.

Pleasure blooms beneath his fingers in a guilty rush, radiating outwards. My neck goes slack, droops forward. Kisses land between my shoulder blades, amplifying my nakedness. His fingers attack softly, teasing my wetness out from within.

"God... damnit," I whisper.

"There's my Mela," he answers. "Now turn around and kiss me like you mean it."

Cleansed at last, I spin and surge toward him - mouth parted, eyes closed.

He catches my lips with his. Arms embrace me. I feel myself lifted above the floor and bent backward like a blade of grass. My fingers find the back of his head and scrape through his dark hair.

His stubble prickles my lips while his tongue searches my mouth. A hand grabs my naked ass, pulling me even closer. All I can do is wrap my legs around him. There is firmness under his jumpsuit, pressing me right where it should.

I am so ready that I ache. I shove a hand between us find the bottom of his zipper, yank it upward and reach inside to grasp his erection.

He staggers as I fish him out through his thermals into the open, but he doesn't break our kiss.

I do.

"Fuck me Specter," I whisper, "right now."

The look on his face is a mix of desperation and joy as he positions me above his cock.

I lean back, hanging from his neck with my legs tight around him.

He finds the angle we need and pushes upward, entering me gently at first. Then he thrusts harder, revealing a desperateness as acute as my own. It has been more than three weeks since we were last alone.

I pull with my legs, conveying my urgency. His grip intensifies as his cock pushes in, getting deeper each time.

"Yes!" I pant.

My slipperiness proliferates between us; erasing the initial discomforts of sex. Specter senses the change and starts really fucking me. I answer his thrusts with my own, and before long I throw my head back and swear. In our collective eagerness we lose balance and tumble backward, bouncing off the empty hammock and falling apart in an awkward jumble of loose limbs.

Of course we laugh. Nobody tells you this, but sex is difficult at one-sixth gravity. There's simply never enough traction. Luckily falling down doesn't hurt much.

I hook my arms over the empty hammock, holding it across my back like sling. Specter stands and lifts my legs up around him again. Then he reinserts himself. I'm so wet that it's easy. He spears me with hungry abandon, driving me into the hammock. Over and over our bodies collide. I lean back and squeal. My breasts swing in mirrored circles atop my ribcage, reacting to his rhythm. My nipples are tingly and firm. They long to be touched.

"Goddamn," he grunts hoarsely. "You are so fucking hot!"

I don't answer. I'm not much of a talker during sex, but I raise my head just enough to see his expression. It's obvious he's in some sort of personal heaven. And that just lifts me higher.

My pleasure breaks orbit, sailing completely free.

Within another minute I've become ecstatic for release. I forget what I'm doing, let go of the hammock and clutch my own boobs.

Thankfully Specter retains the presence of mind to ease his thrusts and avoids launching me across the room.

Lingering in self-indulgent delirium, I close my eyes and let my hands roam. He takes charge of our union. Eventually I reach for his shoulders and pull myself up. We kiss but the fit of our bodies becomes awkward somehow, especially with his clothes still between us. So I put one foot down and then the other, dismounting in order to undress him.

Together we get the job done quickly. Once he's completely naked I rise on tiptoe and kiss him again.

Specter has a nice body; lean and relatively tall. His pale skin is snug around his muscles and bones and he has very sparse chest hair; a tempting specimen for sure.

I reach down and touch his damp penis, delighted to recognize its subtle upward curve. He is maximally engorged.

I cradle his cock and balls with one hand, stroking them against my stomach.

"God," he mutters, "I would kill for a mattress right now."

"Yeah," I whisper, "that would be nice but... come on."

I get him to stand astride the hammock and then I crawl into it on all fours while he steadies me from behind. In no time he's inside me again, bumping my bottom. I curl my fingers around the edges of the hammock and push back against him, arching my back to help him get deeper.

God that's nice! I can actually hear our bodies colliding. My wetness surges again. I breathe through my mouth, relishing the fullness he is giving me over and over again.

He reaches around and rubs my clit while his cock continues its slippery intrusions. I feel him stretch my folds apart to expose my clitoris and then swirl a finger there, pushing its sensitive bump around.

My arousal climbs like a windblown leaf, circling ever higher. I'm getting close. I can hear Specter grunting behind me. His cock feels deep now, like he's getting close too.

Selfishly I hope he doesn't finish too soon.

"Fuck!" I squeal. It's making me dizzy, all this arousal combined with the absence of my O2 tube. I bury my head into the hammock and concentrate on pleasure; on the sensations creating themselves within me.

The slap, slap, slap of our sex gets louder. I can hear Specter's breathing. He is shaking me with each impact, pushing me into the hammock. I push back and savor it.

His fingers keep moving. The slapping continues. God that sounds wet!

A long moan escapes me. Heartbeats later my arousal achieves its boiling point.

White-hot pleasure shoots outward, electrifying every erogenous zone from my neck to my toes. They all buzz with joy.

Specter keeps going, shoving his erection into me. I brush his hand off my clit, now oversensitive there. He grips my waist and elaborates his thrusts, withdrawing almost completely between each one.

He's doing this for himself now, aware that my arousal is already rolling from crest to crest with easy buoyancy. It feels marvelous. I'm floating on sex - no longer caring about anything else in the universe.

He's made me normal again. Human and happy.

Everything feels good.

I hold my hips high, arching for him as far as possible and looking back. I want to grant him a memory of this, my wanton face. He deserves that. But his eyes convey some other, unnamed want. It's just a look but it scares right through me.

He leans down close and pulls my head into a sideways kiss. Our tongues touch while one of his hands grabs my nearest breast. His thrusting grows more urgent, thumping against my ass.

He stops kissing me in order to swear. His hands squeeze so hard it feels like punishment.

I grit my teeth and take it, wanting exactly what's next. My fingers and toes scratch at the hammock, as if that might somehow make him cum harder or deeper.

And there it is... fuck yes! Warm spurts tickling my insides.

He yells out and then, at the apex of release, goes quiet, not even breathing as our hearts beat out their frantic rhythms. The flooding deepens.

When I am completely brimmed a shiver runs through us both. Then he resumes, stirring his seed within me. We each moderate our movements though, wanting to linger in this rare impression, this exchange.

Pure animals.

Eventually I am first to break away. Lowering my backside off his softened cock, I roll over beneath him.

He collapses with a sigh that sounds exhausted and spent. I welcome him, enjoying his smothering and post-coital warmth. I don't care about anything else right now, and that alone is worth everything.

Minutes pass. The hammock's swaying fades to a stop, cradling us in silence.

Specter's breathing becomes perfectly even. My life rushes back, besieging my brain with all the worries so recently expelled.

"Spec," I whisper, "Wake up. I have to go."

Reluctantly he shifts himself from me and stands. I swing my legs to one side and climb out.

I hand him a wet-wipe and use two on myself. Once clean, we each pull on our underwear and thermals, then snug our O2 tubes back under our noses.

Specter crawls back into the hammock. I step into my coveralls and pull my boots on.

By the time I'm fully dressed and zipped up, he looks almost dead.

"Hey," I say loudly. "I've gotta go."

"Mm-hmm," he murmurs. "I'll be there... watch you go out."

"Okay. Enjoy your nap."

I pull my headset over my ears and power it on. The hum of the heater is replaced by crackling voices and static. I can't make out what anyone is saying. The reception is too weak down here.

I turn away and open the hatch to leave. As I duck toward its opening I catch movement in the corner of my eye though. So I look back.

Specter is up on one elbow, staring at me with no expression at all. Then his mouth moves to form three words.

I snap my eyes away but not soon enough. Like a spear it hits; a parting gift gone very wrong. I can't look at him, only at the floor and then the door.

I'm too frail for full gravity.

My boots resist but I lurch forward and escape, managing to shut the hatch between us before regret arrives.

Straight up I climb, blurring the rungs as fast as I can.

Noise returns.

*