Subtle Redundancy

He was not interested in merely shoving his fingers into her snatch. He kept them moving, lightly, in and out and around, slowly building her up to where he wanted her before he decided to take her. Which suited Rielle just fine; the hard dick moving with increasing urgency against her skin suited her even better, and she twisted her shoulders around to catch Erno's lips with her own. The grunt from him as their tongues met, simultaneously desperate and confident, surprised her.

When Rielle rolled her body around to face him, Erno's hand kept pace; his eyes were locked low, staring at the shadows where his fingers disappeared inside her, completely captivated. She settled on the pad and her hands cupped his face. "I'm so fucking wet," she whispered unnecessarily, her body smooth and taut against his, and Erno was smiling as they kissed. He tasted good, his fingers were doing unbelievable things to her clit, and Rielle moaned into his mouth as she started to melt.

Her leg rose again, up and over his thigh, and when she reached between them to push his cock lower, down along her slit, he broke the kiss and stared at her hard in the moonlight. "Yes," he told her simply, his voice low and certain.

"I'm not asking," she replied into his ear, chasing the words with her tongue, her whole sinewy body a constant caress. "I'm taking."

"Good," he muttered back against her skin, and Rielle let out a slow breath as she moved her soaked cunt against the hot flesh of his cock, back and forth, tempting him. His lips were obsessed now with her neck, biting and sucking hard, and her whole body was vibrating. He was moving with her, his hips, the two of them breathing harder and deeper. "Then take."

Rielle let out a gusty sigh and shoved him over onto his back; he was half off the pad, but neither of them cared. The air blanket shredded around them, leaving naked flesh open to the cold night air inside the shuttle. But Rielle was sheened with sweat anyway as she swung her leg up over him, her breath a dog-pant of need, gluing her body to his thighs and reaching boldly down to seize his dick. Their eyes glowed at each other in the hazy blue light, feral, both of them lost in each other as she rose up on rippling young thighs to position herself. Erno's grasping fingers pulled her toward him, urging her, helping her impale herself on the firm, solid cock she steered toward the target, toward her warm slick cunt.

There was no magic, no transcendence involved in the moment his head wedged itself into her slit; it wasn't a heart-stopping instant, not a particularly remarkable one at all. It was just sheer, sweet satisfaction, like a cold shower after a desert hike; the pleasure of quenching, of relieving a need more profound than any she could imagine, and the joy of that had her laughing breathlessly as she let herself slowly down over every ridged inch of Erno's able penis. Distantly she heard him sigh, even moan, but she didn't stop until she felt the tickle of his pubic hair on her skin; it was only when she opened her eyes, then, that she realized she'd closed them.

"Jesus," Erno whispered, his voice thick, "your pussy."

"Like it?" she crooned, settling, feeling the fullness. Every part of her cunt was packed; when he flexed his dick, pulsing inside her, she gasped.

"You feel perfect," he marveled, his head sinking back onto the cold metal of the deck. "Perfect."

"Thank you," Rielle purred. She tightened herself on him, enjoying his groan in reply, the power in her body. She'd gotten what she wanted; the rest was just gravy, as she got what she needed. "Now, if you don't mind," she added, "I'm going to fuck you dry."

"I know," he managed, bucking his hips sharply up, and Rielle took the hint. She raised her ass and slammed it back down, leaning close to him until she could smell his breath, taunting him with the shudders of her nipples while they thrust into each other. Her hips were young and limber, and she'd learned over the past few months that she could use them with devastating effectiveness: grinding hard into her man's groin, feeling the thick solid root of his cock crushing her clitoris, and holding it there until the spasm passed through her before starting again, rising, falling, sliding, in an endless rhythm that drove them both crazy.

Erno's motility studies, combined with the information they'd gleaned from him over the years, suggested an average plateau phase of nearly seven and a half minutes, and Rielle was determined to give him everything she had. Faster and faster she moved, slamming hard against his legs, and to her delight he proved a very astute lover: his fingers skated carefully up and down her sides, from thigh to armpit, while he bucked rhythmically upward at just the right time, encouraging her, pushing her harder.

"Goddamn," she bit out, her legs tight, knowing she'd cum before he did. It was just around the corner already, charging unstoppably toward her mind. "Fuck me."

He obeyed, more than ready, driving hard upward with his legs to flip her onto her back. The wind flooded from her lungs, and kept flooding when he crawled on top of her and plunged back into her greedy hole, leaving her hollowed-out and gasping while he thrust. She heard herself sobbing, his hands grappling for hers on the inadequate sleeping pad, then gripping her fingers tightly while he fucked her.

"You feel so tight," he grated into her face, his spit stinging her. "I'm going to make a habit of this."

Her mind filled with a million sexy replies, witty, racy, but she was losing control of her mouth and just cried, "Fuck yes!" The blinding, melting-chocolate feeling in her gut as his penis churned there, the pink haze in her brain, overtook her and she trembled as she got there. "God! Yes! Yes!"

He was really surging now, their sweat-slicked bodies frictionless apart from the tension in her cunt, now releasing all through her shuddering body. Desperate, in response to some lizard-need in her hindbrain, a craving for the closeness of his body, she craned upward to catch his lips in a searing, wet kiss, needing the contact, wanting nothing at all in that moment but to have every part of him filling her.

Vaguely she was aware of herself spurring him on, literally, her heels crashing into his thighs, but Erno needed no urging at all: he was an animal, racing his own libido, needing to get as far into her body as he could before he came; she had no doubt he knew, at some pre-mammalian level, that she was deeply in heat, that he was the man she'd selected to fertilize her, and that he was responding to that by pummeling her profoundly. But his form was falling apart, both of them shaking, and Rielle was still lost in her orgasm when Erno fell off the cliff and had his own.

Bexler had mentioned the strength of his ejaculation, and Rielle felt it now, dimly, the swelling of his shaft and the jagged bursting of the semen blitzing out of him, straight into the base of her womb. It struck her as a pervasive warmth, growing, renewing in the seconds before it subsided when he blasted another spurt into her. And another. Five? Seven? Neither of them could be sure. All they knew was perfection, the heightened pleasure of two people doing what their bodies were made to do, and doing it well.

Her next kiss, her legs wrapped around him, her body sloshing with his sperm, was tender. Grateful. Appreciative. And his was, too.

* * *

The bisch wasn't amused; they never liked to be penned, and this one was probably feeling very unhappy to have a human embryo growing inside it. But she seemed placid enough, standing there chewing its cud inside the new corral, and Chonn Bexler nodded.

"I found out this morning," she winked, "that your paper's been accepted for publication." She glanced over. "I'm on the byline too, obviously."

"Obviously." Rielle wondered whether she should feel any sort of emptiness or loss, or anything else emotional, knowing that her child was going to be gestating inside an animal. But she felt little, other than a vague excitement that the experiment was working. It was a huge deal, massive; the sixth year, and already a successful embryonic transplant! No other colony had ever pulled that off; of course they'd accepted the paper. It was Rielle's first publication, and without even being a doctor, and so she felt pride, too.

And relief that Erno wasn't going to be sent out to the Fringe. With Aron 471-G, now a new citizen.

"Well," Bexler added, after a pause, "I guess I'll be off, then. Remember, Vivy's giving birth at three this afternoon. And Mikka needs his checkup before then."

"I know." Rielle gazed over at her boss, serene. "You know I know."

"Right," Bexler said shortly. "See you then." She nodded at Erno, smiling, and headed off back to the nearby sickhouse, leaving the two of them contemplating the animal in the rain.

Erno sounded as awkward as ever when he spoke. "Thanks, Rielle," he said softly. "I know why you did it."

"No thanks needed." She was leaning against the fence, his arm warm against hers, and she shocked herself when she leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. "I like having you around. You've always been my favorite citizen."

"No shit?"

"No shit." She hesitated, then smiled. "I remember you teaching me to play chess, on the voyage out. Rare moments of calm, quiet enjoyment." She raised her head and smiled at him. "So we're even." More than that; they'd been fucking periodically since they'd returned from Plastic Harbor, and she could tell he was thinking about knocking up someone else. "So," she went on, "assuming everything stays viable? And it should?" She looked over at him. "What do you want to name our daughter?"

He smiled back at her, shyly, and cleared his throat. "You know already." He nudged her. "Tiamat."

Rielle chuckled, thinking that ancient goddesses and fantasy-game villains weren't necessarily the worst namesakes. She settled back down to contemplate the bisch and wondered when she should tell him the thing was carrying twins.

* * *

Thanks for reading. And thanks again to Chloe, for organizing this year's event.