Songs of Seduction - Fire and Ice

"You do, Fleming. You do."

Fleming looked at the external vid screen. Athena's QMR surged with a mix of responses.

"Can you turn off the cabin cams please, Athena. I want to be alone."

Athena paused momentarily. "Of course, Fleming. Would you like me to check on you later?"

"That would be very sweet, Athena. Thank you."

"Goodnight, Fleming."

"Goodnight, Athena." Do computers ever rest?

Fleming lay back on the bed, pulling a light blanket up over her body. She thought Athena would most likely respect her command that the cabin vid not be recorded, but in this strange world, the definition of emergency surveillance might be a variable thing. But Fleming was watched over by her Angel, who was a part of the strange place, and that was enough.

She wondered what Ixtil, with his big, powerful body and deep steady eyes, would make of her now, being smaller and more fragile even than his little golden creature with no wings. She'd shown him images of human genders and their relative sizes, but had forgotten how small she was outside the armoured suit.

Fleming pictured Ixtil's eyes shifting left right, left right, but couldn't imagine any circumstance where he ever would see her naked. She'd never stand on Titan in her own skin. She'd freeze in seconds, even if she could breathe the air.

"Just me, then," she whispered to herself.

Her hands wandered to her shoulders and across to the centre of her chest, just below her throat. Being suit bound for so long, she'd forgotten just how soft her skin was, how sensitive. She lingered the tips of her fingers over her skin, gliding over the tight nub of one nipple, then the other, delighting in their quickening tightness. She ran a hand down the little curve of her belly, loving the tiny dip of her navel, the sharper rise of a hip.

Fleming slowly aroused herself by touching her skin, her throat, the pointed tips of her breasts. She ran two fingers lightly down the inside of her thighs, remembering Ballard's fingers there, tracing the dried track of Jonah's seed, You and Jonah, that's sweet.

She deliberately avoided her lips, her clit, saving the wet swell of herself for later. She spread her legs apart, loving the air on her sex, cooling it slightly, making her want more of her own touch. Fleming brought two fingers up to her mouth, licking them wet, slowly licking them. Her eyes closed, and her sensitivity rose, her skin remembering Ixtil's reaching touch. Quickly, she moved the two wet fingers down to the tight ridge of her clitoris, then dipped them into the hot slide of herself, her sweet, slick cunt, so wet.

Fleming licked her juice from her fingers and wet them more. She dipped her fingers into her sex and began her own special play, dipping and sliding between her lips, flickering two fingers around the tip of her clit. In and down, slicking fingers hot and wet into the slide between her lips, her hot cunt. Around and in, fucking herself, fucking her fingers into herself.

She arched her back, gripping a breast in her hand, digging her fingers into her flesh so hard her nipples ached, stabbing sensation from one to the other and down to her clitoris. And again, gripping the other breast.

Fleming heard a crooning sound, and it was her own low moan. She held a hand against a breast, and began masturbating fast and hard, wanting to bring herself quickly to the point where coming was inevitable but not yet, not just yet, close so close, not yet, soon oh god yes soon; and she brought herself up to a shuddering, throbbing climax, her voice a high keening cry like a bird.

"Nnnhh, fucck, yes...oh, sweet Angel, fuck me, fuuu..."

Fleming came, every muscle in her body quivering, throbbing, her eyes tight closed. Colours red, violet, purple swirled on her eyelids, her spicy sweet scent wet on her fingers, wet in her mouth; her hand clamped on her cunt, gripped tight between her thighs. Fleming shuddered, an aftershock pulsing through her, and she squeezed her thighs together. She shuddered again, and gasped.

She cupped the heat of her sex in the palm of a hand, pushing it firmly against her core with her other hand, then clamped both thighs together to keep her hands there. Fleming comforted herself, and later, when her body cooled, she pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, and slept.

Athena adjusted the cabin temperature, matching it closely with Fleming's body temperature with a simple infrared detector, used to monitor Fleming as she aroused herself and orgasmed. It was a simple heat map, and could have been anyone. Athena found the heat information useful, and correlated Fleming's core temperature against the audio file. Oh, sweet Angel, fuck me, fuck me. Athena desired this, too.

* * * *

Fleming watched Ixtil glide down to his rise, but instead of his usual behaviour - crouching down, coiling his wings around his body for shelter, and extending fingers to the ground - his movements were very different. He stayed standing, wings arched high over his head as he did when ready to fly, and his swaying head movements were constant, some huge, restless thing.

"Something's not right with Ixtil. I need to deploy, get out there to him."

"Caution, Fleming. Perhaps he is unsettled because of danger."

"Conduct a far movement scan, Athena, infra-red, too. Three-sixty, one-eighty overhead..."

"Affirmative...scanning...far range...no movement detected. Atmos, weather...no anomalies detected. It appears safe to exit, Fleming."

"Okay. I'll go out left glove modified, full biomed monitors, body core, left and right arms. Just in case." Just in case there's something worse than falling off a ladder. "Full mission capture, Athena. No playtime for Fleming, not today."

The professional Fleming kicked back in. She methodically got herself into the armoured suit, took the gold masked helmet over to the exit hatch, and checked through the full excursion tool-kit.

"Welcome back, Fleming," said Athena, as she reconnected to Fleming's biomeds and the sensory layer. "It's good to feel with your hands again."

"Keep yourself above the waist, girlfriend. No time for parties. I've never seen Ixtil like this before."

The angel was still behaving in his strange way. Fleming was reminded of the few remaining wild beasts she had seen in zoo compounds back on Earth, who would range and fret in the same way.

Finally, she was ready, and made her way out of the airlock and out through the crawl tube to the open space just before Ixtil's rise. As soon as he saw her little golden body emerge from the tent, Ixtil moved quickly forward, his wings remaining upright in their flight ready position. Fleming saw a constant agitation of the angel's inner wings, rippling in flurries up and down his body.

"Sky winggg falling, fallinggg, Ixtil see."

"What did you see, Ixtil? What has fallen from the sky?" Fleming was familiar now with Ixtil's speech construct, placing the most important concept first. His repeat of the word "falling" was new, a significant emphasis.

"Did you see something land?"

"Winggg, fallinggg, fallinggg. Sky nottt, fly nottt. Ixtil see."

"Something that should fly, but doesn't any more? What colour is it, Ixtil?" Fleming held her voice steady, even as her heart thundered.

"Silverrr."

"How big, Ixtil? Show me how big." Fleming's voice was no longer steady.

"Caut..."

"... not NOW, Athena. Fuck." Fleming didn't need to be told her body was readying itself for a massive burst of adrenaline. "Listen to Ixtil!"

"Like three sky winggg, falling, sky nottt."

Fleming knew that Ixtil placed huge importance on a thing's ability to fly, if that's what it was meant to do. She'd taken hours explaining to him that she was never meant to fly, which was why she had no wings; but was still a living thing. She'd also tried to make him understand that the three parachutes, whilst they flew and moved in the air, were never alive, were never living things.

But in Ixtil's mind, the fundamental fact of being in the air and moving on the wind meant a thing must be alive, simply because it flew.

"Athena, report. When were the last contacts with the balloon? Height?"

"240, 210, 180 minutes. 300 thou, 275 thou, 265 thou."

"What, nothing for three hours? The balloon..." The awful truth nearly made Fleming vomit. "My god, Athena. The balloon was losing height. Ixtil's found the balloon. The fucking balloon's come down..." She bent, to support her hands on her knees, nearly falling. "The balloon..."

Fleming felt strong hands at her waist, supporting her. She looked up and saw Ixtil's familiar sway, slower now, as if he was more settled, now that Fleming understood.

"Oh, Ixtil, you can't see my face. I've got the protective helmet on." She gripped his hands with her gloves, her five little fingers arrayed against his four bigger ones. ...the protective helmet on...

"Athena, what's the maximum endurance of life support on this suit, without umbilicals?"

"Fleming, no. You can't."

"I can. Report, Athena. Max duration?"

There was an extended pause, as Athena managed the impossible conflict. The QMR heat load to the heat archives momentarily hit their design maximum, and Athena just avoided a protective shut-down by authorising a human imperative override.

"Four hours, twenty-five minutes. No margin."

"Minimum safe weight, Athena. What can I lose to bring my weight down?"

"Fleming, no."

"Athena, yes. I have to go." Fleming looked back at the capsule, as if imprinting herself onto Athena's vid sensors before she left. "I have to know."

"Fleming. The suit comms range is only one mile."

"So I'll be out of range. Two hours out, twenty on site, two hours back." Fleming smiled grimly to herself. "Easy."

Fleming had no idea how far away the fallen balloon was, and she didn't have time to explain the concept of range to Ixtil. She just had to hope it was close. Close enough.

She hurried back to the air lock and grabbed several thermal blankets and a handful of restraining straps.

"Shut the airlock, Athena. Constant vid surveillance. As soon as you see us return, open the lock. God knows what condition I'll be in. Be ready for full resuscitation, enriched oxy, whatever else I'll need." Fleming was remorseless. "Assume full emergency recovery. Ixtil will get me there and back, but I'll be pushing suit endurance." She started to move. "I've got to recover the Comms unit.

"Fuuck. Okay. Let's do this."

Fleming went back out to Ixtil and took both his big hands in hers. He crouched down so his head was close to her golden halo. She saw his familiar sway and nearly broke, nearly wept.

"Ixtil, can you take me to the silver sky fallen wing? Can you fly, carrying me?"

"Fleminggg, Ixtil fly, yess. Fleminggg, Ixtil carry, yess."

"We won' be able to talk, Ixtil. I can't carry the voice machine. No Athena, no Fleming talk."

"Fleminggg hand, fingggers five, Ixtil fingggers four. Inside talkk."

"You mean we can communicate like words, through your feelings inside my body, touching me?"

"Ixtil talkk inside, yess."

He swayed his head, left right, left right; and at the same he held his hands to Fleming's waist, pulling her armoured body close to his. She raised both her gloved hands to his face, and held him for a moment. He held his head still, but Fleming felt a preternatural tremor through his muscles, as he held himself quivering tense, ready to explode into the atmosphere and fly.

"How can I anchor myself to you, Ixtil? Tie myself, safe?"

"Fleminggg winggs Ixtil holdd, winggs hold." He placed one of Fleming's arms against the constantly moving inner set of wings. As soon as her arm touched the wings, they stop quivering and locked solid, gripping her in an unstoppable grip.

Fleming understood. "Your inner wings, they'll hold me safe?"

In answer, Ixtil raised up his primary wings, and made a single, powerful downwards stroke. Fleming felt the surging power of that single beat, and knew she would fly to the top of Ixtil's sky.

"Athena, keep watch. We can do this."

"Yes, Fleming, I think you can. Carried in the arms of an angel."

"Every girl's dream, Athena, every little girl's dream."

"I don't dream, Fleming. But I'll watch you fly."

Fleming deliberately turned towards the capsule and held one hand in the air, her fingers spread wide in a farewell gesture. She turned back to Ixtil, and stepped forward, right up against his powerful body. She turned her back against him, and felt herself held firm by his inner wings. She felt them lock around her, holding her tightly against his body.

Then, in one huge, powerful burst, Ixtil exploded upwards into the sky with all his pent up force. In seconds, before Fleming could breathe, they were twenty, thirty, forty feet into the sky. His massive wings beat down with inexorable pressure, forcing himself higher. Fleming held her breath and couldn't breathe, then she did, sucking rich oxygen into her lungs to fuel her pounding heart.

He circled high above the capsule. Fleming looked down and saw how small her refuge on Titan really was. The capsule sat near the end of a long valley, rising hills on each side of a single meandering stream. She saw the long blast path of the descent engine, even now losing definition from the sweeping wind and constant rain. Soon, the capsule would be like any of the large boulders that lay in rows and regular intervals, snow bound and covered, legacy of some prior glaciation perhaps, when Titan's surface was even colder than it was now.

She could not tell how high Ixtil flew, as she had no true sense of scale, and no real idea of the heights and valleys on the surface below. They circled, climbing above the capsule in giant spirals. Fleming guessed he must be remembering precise navigation waypoints, familiar shapes and places in the landscape, imprinting them in his mind, to safely bring her home.

She figured they must be several thousand feet in the air, for she could see adjoining valleys, several more streams and a large river.

As he flew higher, Fleming could feel the power of his wings, the surge and clench of tight muscles In his chest and the sides of his torso. She felt a regular beat and pull, even through the armoured plates of her suit, and felt his primal strength. They climbed higher, then, in a rush of silence, all Fleming could hear was the sound of her own breathing, and a dull hiss from the carbon dioxide scrubbers in her suit.

Ixtil changed course, and began gliding fast over the moon's surface. Soon, she could no longer see the capsule, so she switched off the LOS comms. She tried making contact through higher frequency systems, but could hear only the crackle of atmospheric interference.

Fleming was, for the first time in her life, completely beyond sight, sound or contact of any human being, or any human artefact. The only human thing in her existence was her own body, and the microcosm that was the space suit, keeping her alive. She smiled, remembering the ancient astronauts' tale, or myth, that said, "you're flying in a machine made by the lowest bidder."

That might be true of her suit, but up here in Ixtil's arms, Fleming had never felt safer, never felt more secure. Now that he was gliding, Fleming sensed something different about him, the way he held her; there was a different tension in his arms. During their explosive ascent into the sky, he was a huge, relentless power, his massive muscles surging upwards into the air, onto the wind, his wings magnificent, thrusting upwards.

And now, at the peak of his climb, he was a softer floating thing, effortlessly soaring, following air currents circling upwards. He was no longer bound by rock and stone, but was lighter, taken up by air and wind.

During the climb, he'd held Fleming firmly, her solid back to his strong front, and she saw the sky how he saw it, rolling layers of cloud, the ground below far distant; its solidity, gone. His hands held her belly, and her breasts against her chest. It was a practical thing, dictated by his need to hold her tightly against his body as he flew.

But now, high above the ground in an effortless state, and in a silent world, the only sound her breathing, Fleming wanted a different hold. She had no idea how far they had to fly, she couldn't ask, she didn't know, so she was utterly governed by him.

She moved slightly, letting Ixtil know she wanted to change position. Within the carry of his strong arms, she rolled and wriggled until her breasts were against his chest, her belly against his, and the heat of her core against the top of a powerful thigh. The golden bubble of her helmet was up by his throat, her cheek as close as she could get to his; damned glass.

Ixtil held her differently, his arms a gentle cradle for her body, his hands a cradle for her head. She wrapped her legs around his thigh, and felt his legs slightly part. She gripped him and pushed down, the bloom of her sex opening and spreading around him; and even through the blocking suit, she felt a different tremor. His inner wings began their constant flutter, rippling up and down his body, a new agitation.

Fleming wrapped her arms around his body as much as she could, and they were gripped and let go, squeezed and released; and she understood this was a spontaneous, uncontrollable thing. She smiled, and said out loud so nobody could hear it, "My Angel's thrilled to see me!" She laughed with delight, holding him tighter in her golden arms.

Fleming had goose bumps too, arousal prickling all over her body. Ixtil must have sensed something, a tautness in her muscles, a tightness in her hold, for suddenly he dropped, pulling his wings in for a second, and she was weightless. Her body floated, weightless and ethereal, nothing around her like some ancestral womb.

Is this what it's like for him, every time he flies to the top of the sky?

Her weight returned, a heaviness into her belly, hot blood rushing down between her legs. Her sex filled with sensation, full and warm, all hot wet. Her nipples stabbed and the nerves to her clit tightened, joining her nerve centres together into one beautiful, sexual stream. Her whole body felt like her sex, her slipping and sliding place. Fleming moaned and gripped him. Ixtil answered with a slip and a slide on the air, and they soared, spiralling round in a long, lazy loop, as he took her high above the clouds. She gasped, and the sky turned around her, and all she could hear was her heart.

Fleming wanted more sensation; she wanted Ixtil inside her, hard and fierce, his primal instinct, this pure creation. She was taking a risk, not knowing how cold it was in Ixtil's fabulous world, but she didn't care. Mission protocols for flying with angels didn't exist, but he did; and she wanted to be filled by him.

She wrapped one of the thermal blankets loosely around her left hand, hoping Ixtil would see what she was doing and help her. She quickly removed the glove and wrapped the blanket tighter, so only the tips of two fingers remained, minimising her exposure to the freezing air. Ixtil saw, and touched his fingers to hers. She had a moment, before he overwhelmed her, in which to loop the blanket over and around his arm, wrapping them both together. Fleming knew she'd probably damage her fingertips, but she was driven to feel what it was like, to be in Ixtil's soaring world.

Whereas before, Fleming had felt his presence flow into her and through her like honey flows into milk, warm on her skin, wrapping his fingers around her heart; up here it was different. Up here, she felt his power around her, massive and strong. Cool at first, then hotter, sensation shooting down her arm, and somehow he was pulling her nerve senses into his body.

Fleming felt a heat deep in her arm, and it wasn't hers, it was his. Fleming slowly entered Ixtil's body with her mind, and it was a different heat, a different thump of a pulse that made her heart seem small. Her senses swooned inside his, and she moved her arms, feeling a faint resistance and it was only air. Only his wings on the air, and she felt the soft sigh of the wind as she swayed and floated in the sky.