Out in the Black Ch. 10

This is a book-length work, so not every chapter will involve sex (though this one does). If you're just looking for a quick wank, this may not be your story.

Thanks for reading!

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Ouch. As I came awake, everything ached to the point I couldn't tell what was where. Even my fingernails hurt. If I'd needed a reminder that the attack I had on Earth was actually pretty mild, I was getting one first hand. Fucking ow.

Swimming up through all the other issues, the one that had woken me came out on top: I really had to piss. I moved my head and there was a kind of sticky sound and a tug on my skin as I pulled away from - oh, right. The captain. Any hopes that he might have slept through the whole shameful episode were killed by the way I was wrapped around him. My face had been glued to his chest with some mix of tears and snot and drool. Charming.

Cap was snoring - something I was sure he'd deny if I ever told him - and experience said he could sleep through damn near anything when drilling punts, so I gradually unwound my arms and climbed over him to hit the piss pot. I sighed in relief as my bladder emptied, rotating my neck and shoulders to work out some of the kinks. Rather than hobble back to bed, I figured I'd do some stretches, try to remove a bit of tightness so I might have a chance at catching the edge of relaxation. I was bent nearly double when I heard Cap groan from the bed.

"I could get used to waking up to that view," he joked. I straightened slowly and turned to find him grinning at me. I rolled my eyes, then grimaced as I pushed my hands against my lower back. "Come on, lie down." He scooted against the bulkhead and patted the middle of the mattress. "Let me help." Thinking back to that moment we had earlier where I'd about thrown caution to the wind and taken possession of his mouth, I knew this was a seriously bad idea. But I hurt like a motherfucker and, well, I wanted a damn back rub.

"You have everything in here," Matt said, digging through the contents of my bedside cubby.

"I like to be prepared," I retorted, settling onto my stomach and laying my cheek on my hands.

"Boy scout," he said with a snort. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I'd gotten used to that with him and the XO. Terrans had all kinds of weird references.

Hearing him shuffle shit around in the cabinet, I tried to think back, remember if I'd put anything too embarrassing in there. "Got it!" He grabbed the bottle of warming massage oil I'd forgotten about. Right, that girl I hooked up with our first night on Earth, just a couple days before Kells showed up on the ship and this whole mess started. If I remembered right, it smelled like -

"Strawberries?" he asked, reading the label. "I'd have figured you for something less fruity."

"I didn't buy it."

"Oh. Right. Okay." I cringed inwardly. Why did I insist on always saying the worst thing possible?

Matt didn't say anything else, but I heard the cap click and then his hands were on my back, slick with oil. He kind of just slid them around for a bit, not doing a whole lot of actual massaging, before letting out a frustrated grunt and moving to straddle my hips. "Leverage," he grumbled before I could say anything. I just shrugged and closed my eyes. This time his hands moved with purpose and he worked my muscles over like a pro. Most people see my back and get squeamish, trying to avoid touching certain places. There was none of that with Matt: his hands claimed every inch of my skin. I groaned as he dug his thumbs in along my spine and heard him chuckle softly. Long minutes later, I was just a Rusty-shaped puddle on the bed.

Hands at my hips, he paused. "Do you want me to keep going?" Matt's voice was husky and something in his tone went straight to my dick. Though, to tell the truth, it had been at attention pretty much the whole time.

"Yeah," I rasped, not giving myself time to reconsider. And it was the honest answer to his question. Fuck yes, I wanted him to continue. I never wanted him to stop.

He tugged my shorts down past my ass, squirted more oil into his hand, and started where he'd left off. "Oh fuck," I moaned as his knuckles pressed into my glutes. He just laughed and increased the pressure. It felt amazing, but it was also frustrating the shit out of me. He was being all careful, making sure to restrict his touching to actual massaging of my muscles, but I wanted more. Needed more. Not letting myself think too much about what I was starting, I pushed back against him. He took a sharp breath and his hands stilled. I bit the inside of my lip, sure I'd fucked it up.

Climbing off of me, the captain snapped the elastic of my shorts against my thighs. "Off," he demanded. My dick got impossibly hard and I lifted my hips to allow him to pull the fabric free. There was some rustling and then Matt was back, this time kneeling between my legs. I spread them wide, giving him open access and erasing any doubts he might have regarding what this was all about on my end. His hands were on my legs, sliding up, up, and then they were on my ass and this time he was definitely teasing me on purpose.

First, his thumbs would slip into my crack, just a bit, as if it was an accident. I groaned and pushed back into his hands, but he wouldn't be rushed. Closer and closer until I was about ready to scream in frustration and I could feel my dick leaking under my belly. Then, finally, he just barely brushed against my asshole and electricity shot through me. I cried out and arched my back and had a second of worry that I'd finished right then. I managed to keep control, but fuck me if that wasn't the next thing to an orgasm.

Matt rested a hand on my butt and leaned over to dig in the cabinet again. His fingers were cool and slippery when they came back. He grabbed my ass and spread me open and I couldn't help but whimper and squirm under his gaze. A finger made circles on the puckered flesh and I might have actually whined.

There was this ache, this need, deep inside me, something I didn't know how to talk about. I got it most times after I'd had one of my dreams and I was feeling it right then stronger than I could remember. I'm not usually shy about asking for what I want, but I just couldn't, not with this. Everything was all mixed up - guilt and shame and hunger - and it tied my tongue in knots. And not the sexy kind. All I could do was let my body show what I needed from him and hope he got the message.

Concerned for my well-being, he tried to go slow. I wasn't having that. As soon as I felt his finger inside me, I pushed back hard, taking the entire length at once. "Fuck," he whispered and I moaned. "It's like that, is it?" I hoped he didn't want an answer because I was in no shape to give one. Knocking my legs farther apart, he pushed my hips down with one hand. Two fingers entered me fast and hard and I cried out. I fought his hold, demanding more. A few thrusts and then he added a third finger. They pounded into me and I was gasping and sweating. The hand on my back, already slippery with oil and lube, lost its grip and immediately my hips were moving, driving back against him, fucking myself furiously against his other one.

Matt smacked my ass sharply and I stilled, waiting, holding my breath. The fingers were removed and I could feel my insides twitching, protesting the sudden emptiness. "I'm going to fuck you, Rusty," he growled behind me. I let out a noise that was more sob than anything - I was sure I'd be embarrassed about that later, but at the moment, I gave no fucks - and arched my back, rocking my hips up and inviting him in. "I'm going to shove my cock in you hard and fast and you're going to take it." Cool air raised goosebumps on my heated skin as the silence stretched after that promise.

"Get on your knees," he ordered finally. I obeyed instantly. Matt pulled my hips back until I was almost sitting on my heels. A hand between my shoulder blades forced my chest down against the bunk. My ass was wide open for the taking. "I am going to wreck this gorgeous ass and you are going to thank me and beg for more." He rubbed the head of his dick against my asshole. I was panting and fighting the urge to snap at him to get on with it.

One hard thrust and he was buried in me to the hilt. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound escaped. My vision went white and my balls tightened as I shot my load against my stomach. Matt moaned and his fingers dug into my hips. I could feel my muscles clutching at him, squeezing his flesh inside me. "Oh fuck, Rusty," he gasped. I took a shuddering breath as the last spasms passed. Then he started to move. He held me in place with an iron grip and pulled halfway out before shoving his dick back in. He did this twice more, slowly, finding the angle he wanted. The next thrust was hard and fast, his pelvis smacking loudly against my ass. My dick was hard - again? still? - and my balls were flung back and forth as he pounded into me. I could hear him grunting with effort as he pistoned his hips.

After an eternity, I was granted a short reprieve as Matt adjusted our positions. He was nearly on top of me, forcing my hips down against the bed with each thrust. My dick was trapped between the mattress and my stomach, my balls smashed under me, the pain only forcing the pleasure to new heights. His breath huffed out as he forced his dick deep into my guts. His swollen head battered my prostate and I was close, so close. Fingers gripped my short hair and jerked my head back. "Come for me," he whispered, his breath hot on the side of my face. Then he sank his teeth into my shoulder and I screamed as I was catapulted into oblivion.

Everything was hazy as Matt chased his own orgasm. I vaguely remember him groaning, feeling his dick pulsing inside me, and I was half gone by the time he gently cleaned me up and pulled the sheet over my boneless body, leaving me on my stomach. Dreamless sleep smoothed the harsh edges of the previous night and I woke sometime later to the sound of my door opening. "Hey," the captain said softly.

"Hey, you." I blinked blearily at him and smiled. For the moment, all I knew was that he was there and I was happy to see him. He was carrying something; I sniffed and realized Cap had brought me chicken soup. Who cries over chicken soup? Not me, but it was a close thing. I moved to sit up and the soreness brought memories flooding back. The captain was watching me closely and his expression told me he had noticed the change in mine.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm - yeah." Never had I meant to expose that side of myself to him, to anyone on the Marzi. I was more than a little shaken up, though I covered as best I could. "Gotta piss like you wouldn't believe, though." Cap moved to pull the little table down from the wall and I used my time at the toilet to make some sense out of my tangled emotions, locking most of them away to be forgotten until they once again staged a jailbreak.

I sat - carefully - and grabbed the bottle he had placed near the bowl. "Apple juice?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, it's what my mom used to give me when I wasn't feeling great: chicken soup and apple juice. I figured it couldn't hurt." Yet again I reminded myself that I did not cry over soup. Christ, my shell was thin after one of those episodes. I dug into the bowl, spooning up the salty broth with its tiny bits of imitation chicken meat and mushy noodles. As nice as the Marzi was, we still stocked the same shit every other spacer ate. Didn't bother me none - I'd grown up on it. Mentally, I urged the captain not to ask. No such luck, of course. "Do you want to, you know, talk about it?" Fuck.

"No." I grunted the word between spoonfuls of soup, knowing he wasn't going to drop it. This kind of shit was why I stuck to anonymous fucks outside of bars. The last thing I wanted was my captain seeing how damaged I was. Having to face someone who had witnessed that side of me laid bare wasn't my idea of a good time. Knowing that the guy who commanded my ship pitied me would twist everything out of true. And here I'd been fooling myself, thinking somehow I wasn't going to have to jump ship after all.

"Okay," he said, drawing the word out. I waited, still hoovering the food. "It's just - "

"No. No 'just.' The answer is no, Cap." He sighed and looked down to where his fingers were locked together on the table.

"What we did after, was that - " He couldn't bring himself to finish the question. Maybe he wasn't even sure what he was trying to ask.

"Yeah. It's not every time, but most." Whatever he was asking, I knew what he wanted to know.

"How?"

I sighed and pushed the empty bowl away. No matter what I said, after he saw the real me last night, we were always going to end up here. "I'd go to the grungiest bar I could find, pick up the first willing guy, and let him bend me over in an alley." Cap flinched as if I'd hit him. There it was, the judgment. The condemnation.

"That's awful." Ah, here came the pity.

"Got me what I wanted. And I didn't have to have this conversation." My voice was flat. Cold. "Thanks for the soup. I think you should go."

A muscled jumped in Cap's jaw. They were late to the party, but anger and bitterness had finally made an appearance. My work here was done. The captain opened his mouth a few times, but the words weren't coming. Finally he turned and left.

"Good job, asshole," I muttered to myself as I pushed the table back up and latched it in place. The unopened bottle of juice went into my cubby. I didn't really let myself examine the motivation behind that move.

I wasn't surprised when Cap didn't show up that night. I didn't go to his room, either. That tether had finally snapped.

~*~

Rusty was close. I could feel the strain in his body as he clawed at the edge, knowing he needed me to boost him over. Drawing from what had been working so far, I threaded my fingers through his hair and pulled back just hard enough he would feel it, enough to tilt his head back, make him feel vulnerable.

"Come for me," I demanded harshly. His eyes rolled toward me and he gave a strangled moan.

More, then. Fine.

I bent my head and bit him on the meat of his shoulder. It wasn't hard enough to draw blood, but it was much stronger than any bite I'd previously given a human being. That did it. A vein in his neck bulged as he forced a breathy scream through his constricted throat. His ass had my cock in a vice and I felt his body shuddering under mine as he found his release. I fucked him through it and then I was coming as well, shooting deep into him, my cries muffled by the shoulder still pressed against my mouth.

Jerking awake suddenly, I flailed upright and sat shivering in bed. My sheets were damp, my cock hard and twitching, and I felt a moment of panicked shame, thinking I'd actually had a wet dream. I was sure those had been left behind in my teenage years. Patting at my crotch, I realized it was just sweat causing my bedding to cling to my body. Despite reaching the point where they'd emptied in my dream, my actual balls were still full and heavy. And starting to ache.

The thought of taking myself in hand, finishing what my sleeping mind had started, did occur to me, but I had promised myself I would no longer get off if it had anything to do with Carter Rust. So far that had meant no relief at all, which was probably why tonight's dream was particularly vivid. "Asshole," I muttered, not sure if I was talking about me or him.

Knowing I wasn't getting back to sleep in that state, I threw on a pair of jogging pants and grabbed my sneakers, heading for the gym. I ran until sweat soaked my hair and ran in rivulets down my bare back and chest. My lungs begged for oxygen and still I ran, as if I could somehow outpace my memories.

It wasn't until I slowed the treadmill to cool down that I noticed I wasn't alone. The sound of flesh hitting the faux leather cover of the boxing target reached my ears. I closed my eyes and took the deepest breath I could manage, knowing who I would see there even before I looked. Back to me, muscles bunching as he danced and jabbed, Rusty was as impossibly hot as always.

"Hey," he said, not turning around.

"Hi." I wished so badly to hate him, but I couldn't. My body still wanted him. My heart still loved him. My mind now had a much greater appreciation for the sense behind his "company port" policy.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Nope. You either?"

"Nope."

I wondered what he would do if I went over there right now. Put a hand on him, wrapped my arms around him, pressed our sweaty bodies together. Would he reciprocate or push me away? I would never know because it wasn't going to happen. I had some minuscule bit of pride left. Plus, Li would kill me if I even thought about getting involved with the engineer again.

That brisk exchange of words had apparently exhausted our safe conversation options and the silence stretched awkwardly between us until I gave up and walked out. I showered quickly, not wanting to be anywhere around when he was ready to clean up. Starting coffee on my way back to my quarters meant I was in my office, steaming mug in hand, an hour before I usually crawled out of bed. Or before I used to get up. Pre-Rusty. Since my last night in his room and his words the following day, I hadn't slept more than a few hours each night. Depending on how I woke up, I either hit the gym or started in on the newsfeeds.

After I left Rusty's room that night, I cried out my heartbreak for the pain and abuse suffered by the boy who had become such an incredible man. The following morning, I scoured the newsfeeds, looking for any mention of the sickness he had told me about. In the "local news" section of the Ring station feed, there was a single sentence about "scientists searching for the cause of a mysterious illness in the Bottoms." That was it. I went back a tenday and found no other mention of it anywhere.

It wasn't that I doubted Rusty; I had just hoped for better from my fellow journalists. I'd wanted to ask him more about it, talk to him to see what could be done, but then he'd shut me down and kicked me out and everything inside me hurt too much to care.

Even so, each subsequent day I made it a point to read as much of the major newsfeeds as I could manage. Numb as I was to the rest of the system outside my heartbreak, I knew I needed to move forward, start figuring out where to go from here. I aimed to get a feel for reporting styles, perhaps find gaps in the coverage I might fill. If I could convince the newsfeeds they needed someone with my skills, perhaps they would overlook my unsavory exit from my previous beat.

Thinking around the edges of that last night with Rusty, I considered placing my focus on the decks that housed the less affluent people on the stations: the Bottoms on the Ring, the Core on Vegas. When I mentioned it to Leelee, though, she pointed out that it had to be intentional, since it was such an obvious blind spot in their coverage. Like so much else when power was involved, directly addressing something society preferred to ignore would only get me shown to the door that much faster. The thought made me feel guilty, but I silently promised that future me would work to fix things from within. I just had to get in first.

It took two days to receive a rejection in response to my first inquiry. I knew aiming for Earth would be a long shot, but I figured might as well start at the top. Mars was next; that refusal came much more quickly. Deciding to take the bandage approach, I sent the last three at once. Drawing out the process had only made the sting worse. Luna and Hermes came in right on top of one another. The Ring waited long enough for me to get my hopes up, despite my best efforts not to, before dashing them to pieces.