Under the Ice

She lifted his oaken arm off her waist and pushed herself free of his warmth onto the floor like a cat, then stretched, unfurling her arms to the ceiling to finish as a tiptoed star.

"Noah? Noah?" she whispered softly, some time later, brushing the aroma of fresh coffee toward his crumpled face on the pillow. His nose twitched like a dog's and one eye opened to look at her, then back to the coffee.

"Morning person, then," he spoke in a grumpy voice. "Go on then. I can see you will give me no peace."

Hannah kissed his nose then stood away as he swung himself upright, with hairy toes on the wood floor.

"Tak skat," he nodded. "Thank you, English woman."

"You are welcome, Danish ogre," smiled Hannah, turning to the stove and a pan she was tending.

"Ogre? Then I must eat you, Christian woman, and there will be nothing left but your broken bones in my shit." He chuckled as he slurped his coffee.

"How do you feel about agnostics?" asked Hannah.

"Taste just as good. The one I ate last night was delicious."

"Did she fight back?"

"Yes, this one was a fighter. She screamed the whole way into my mouth. But I beat her with my kølle and that quietened her." Noah looked up mischievously. She grinned inwardly, but concentrated on her task.

"Noah? Any chance of rigging up a shower? I really need to wash, especially after my ogre encounter last night." Hannah tested the porridge she was making and blew a puff of steam from her spoon.

"Shower? You think this is Holiday Inn?" He scoffed, but saw the disparaging look on her face. "We can have a badesvamp shower. There is a tray in the workshop -- I'll fetch it in a moment. I see the weather has closed in. Is it snowing hard outside?"

Hannah stepped to the glazed door and wiped the condensation with the squeaky cuff of her thermal. "Cats and dogs. Bears and wolves. Mammoths and mastodons."

"Mastodons you say? Sounds like we're stuck here for the day. Did you bring a book to read?" he asked.

"I've got the ice samples to go through -- the ones I didn't throw in the sea, that is. Then I can start compiling a report and then I can fuck your brains out. I don't think we'll get bored," Hannah replied with a straight face.

"Ho ho! I like it when you talk dirty, young Hannah'" Noah rose to his feet behind her and put his arms round her waist. He leaned to put a kiss on her cheek. "Grød?"

"What's that -- porridge? Yup, good grod, great balls of fire. How are your balls anyway?" She sniggered at her own bad puns.

"Half empty, maybe half full." Noah ran his hands down her sides, then held her buttocks in his hand. "Cute ass."

"Shower first, then sex. No. Reports, pack samples, lunch, badesvamp thing, then if I'm not too tired, the other thing. Hungry?" Hannah twisted her neck to meet his kiss, then wiggled her ass in his big hands.

"Is all your field work like this? Always shagging the young scientists, Noah?"

Noah answered by weighing the question with a tilt of his head and a wry smile.

"What happens in the cabin, stays in the cabin," he replied. Seeing her turn away, looking a little crest-fallen, he added. "No, for God's sake, woman. How long do you think I would keep my job if I acted that way? Besides, I only sleep with women who chase bears, remember?"

"Good answer. That was a close one, huh?" she laughed back.

* * * * *

Hannah's work kept her in the chilly workshop. Noah regularly looked in, bringing her hot drinks and snacks. Despite her thick gloves, her hands became numb and she was wary of the saw she needed to cut the ice cores into slices. She tried to chase the cold out of her limbs by shouting back at the creeping pain in her hands and dancing about the room.

An old song was going round her head as she worked and she found herself singing the refrain. 'Ain't no mountain high enough'. She had no idea who the band was, but it was one of her mother's old favourites. She varied the words to match her situation. 'Ain't no ice core thick enough,' then 'Noah's cock is big enough' which she made sure she sang quietly, in case he heard. 'No point giving him ideas' she chuckled to herself, then danced the cold out of her feet once more.

Towards midday, Noah put his head round the door and motioned her to follow him into the warm main room, where he'd set out the table. It was a simple meal of soup with cheese and bread.

"When you are ready, Hannah, I can offer you a herbal badesvamp and then if you wish, you may roll in the snow outside. You see the tray by the kitchen? You can stand in that."

Hannah gave him and the large sample tray a double take, but Noah was unmoved and clearly quite serious.

"I have made the room much warmer. So, if you strip off, then I can wash you with the sponge. There is plenty of hot water from the stove. Then, if you insist, you can wash me as well."

Hannah nibbled the last of the bread from her plate and studied Noah for any sign of a smirk on his lips. He shrugged casually in answer to her scrutiny and suspicion.

They stacked the dishes to one side and Hannah stripped, peeling off her thermal layers. Having already shared a bed, she didn't mind being naked but she was curious about his body. She had seen bits of him of course, but not joined up -- he was like a living jigsaw. The thought made her smile as she dropped her towel over a chair and stepped into the tray.

Noah too was curious. Being naked with someone else was not unusual for him. He never gave a second thought to chatting to other naked people in a sauna back in Denmark. He filled a bucket with water and stood in his underwear facing her.

For a second, they both hesitated. They could not deny the eroticism of the act. There is the necessity of being naked with a doctor, with a token covering in a pretence of privacy. There is the nakedness of lovers, who seldom stand back to observe, but fill their senses with touch and taste. This felt like the role of a nude model posing for an artist. Noah would paint her in soap.

Hannah felt like a child as Noah held her arms and lathered top and undersides, his eyes following his hand in concentration. He massaged her fingers, the spaces between them, pressed his thumbs into her palms, then pinched her forearms, raking her slim muscles from wrist to elbow. The eyes of a craftsman, planing wood, rubbing stainer, checking the form and balance of her limbs.

He squatted in front of her, glancing up with his sculptor's eyes at her belly, the perfect smoothness of her breasts with her berry sized nipples, over the lines of her ribs. He took the soap to run his clasped hands down her thigh, over the bump of her knees, the sharp edge of her shin, the tight swelling of her calf. His hands chased runnels of soap water into the frothy puddle round her feet.

"Lean on me," he said, making her start from the trance he had woven. She leaned onto his shire horse shoulders, too wide for a man, a hard-working animal used to heavy loads. He lifted her foot onto his knee and pressed his thumb into the sole, sending shocks into her tummy so she cried out in alarm.

"Did no one ever rub your feet before? Other foot now. I'll show you this later. I think you call it reflexology. Your foot is a map of your body and a doorway to your soul, your chakra. Have you heard of chakra, Hannah?"

Hannah felt giddy from so much sensation, and could only nod in reply. It was a relief when he put her foot back into the puddle of water, but she immediately missed the intensity of the feelings he'd produced.

He turned her round to face away from him.

'His eyes on my bottom. What will he do when he reaches my bottom?' Hannah thought with illogical anxiety. He stood behind her, his hands heavy on her shoulders, Soaping under her arms again with one big hand, down the bump bump of her spine and the flair of her hips. His other arm was across her breasts as her pulled her into his chest, to kiss her ear and slip soapy fingers between her buttocks. To her relief, her didn't look closer at her ass.

'How did he know not to look? Did he share her need for privacy even between lovers? That must be it,' she thought, her eyes unfocused towards the blue daylight outside beyond the misted windows.

"Here," was all he said, handing her the sponge that dripped with warm water and foam. She took it and washed her groin with fingers and soap, leaving her with a lather. He took the sponge from her, squeezed it, soaked up clean water, then pressed it to her tummy, making rivers over her belly and modest hands.

"More?" he asked. She nodded and he repeated the rinse. Surely he had children to know this? She felt so small in his arms, so safe. She could fall asleep where she stood.

"So, you are clean. Here. If you like to wash your hair, I can help. We should leave the floor dry or it freezes later," Noah put a towel in her hand. It wasn't a big fluffy hotel towel, it was a trekking towel, quick-drying, practical, and only big enough for one limb at a time towel.

Hannah gave a wry smile. She would have loved a big fluffy towel and sighed in disappointment as the trance she'd enjoyed in Noah's wet hands ended with the bump of cabin reality.

Noah helped polish his finished sculpture, dried her feet then stood admiring his work, holding her steady by her waist.

Hannah closed her eyes and offered her lips for a kiss. He accepted, she smiled.

"Noah?" Hannah said, tip-toeing to her bunk. "You really need a wash too. You stink!"

Noah roared with laughter then sniffed his armpits and nodded back to her.

"Shall I help you?" Hannah offered, sitting down to pull on fresh leggings.

"No, that's ok. You're dry now and your hands are too small. Top up the water for me, if you wouldn't mind."

Noah used the same sponge for himself, humming quietly to himself as he washed himself with military efficiency. Hannah watched in curiosity and amusement. 'Free show' she thought to herself with a chuckle. When Noah came to wash his back, she stepped forward, silencing his objection with a shush.

Hannah once helped a friend brush her horses after a riding lesson. This was the same. She reached to his shoulders, drawing the sponge down his back. His pale skin made him vulnerable in her eyes: human frailty in a sweep of time, from cradled infant to this man, her ogre. Palest pink ran in rivulets from her hand on his skin, water patterns etched in wandering lines, down his soft muscled back, plumpy buttocks and hair striped legs. She leaned to rest her head on his shoulder, too wrapped in the moment to proceed.

Oblivious to her tender mood, Noah reached his hand to ask for the sponge. The moment was hers and he was simply washing: brisk and perfunctory. He turned to face her, already soaping his tummy, working his hands downward.

Hannah watched his hands at work, busy lifting his balls and running his soapy fingers behind them.

"May I?" she asked, and he handed her the sponge.

"You've got an outey,' she smiled.

"Some people have inneys, some have outeys. Your tummy button!" she explained and he nodded and shrugged.

She knelt in front of him, his penis at eye level, his pubic hair already thick with foam like a hedge with windblown snow. His penis hung like a heavy finger laying claim to the ground on which he stood. His balls hung in thick drapes of velvet, folded in secrets, stretched by the weight they bore.

She took the soap and lathered it in her hands, then looked again. She held the bundle of his genitals as though she were holding a trapped butterfly, with clasped gentle hands, frightened to squeeze. She held his balls safe, but there was no room for his penis that hung over her thumbs. She drew her hands back, letting his balls gently slither from her finger tips as she enclosed his soft shaft, with its veins and tendrils of hair, then rolled them back, exposing the glistening mauve head.

She could feel it swell in her hands and Noah steadied himself with his fingertips on her shoulders. Hannah felt a quiver in his legs and looked up, concerned, saw his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open. She realised how intense these sensations were and understood the trust he placed in her. She would not fail him.

With slow, certain strokes, she lifted his balls, heavy and serious, like wise old men conferring. She smiled at the thought, watched them raise their faces to her, then slump back indifferent to her attention. Not so his penis she noted -- ever the dog, ready to wag his tail. She understood penises, she knew how they felt because she'd had one once, though not this size and never this close.

She smiled happily to feel it swell and pulse in her hands, letting the foreskin become stretched by the swelling head beneath. She looked up to his face again and had his full attention. She bit her lip mischievously, waggling her eyebrows to him. His penis no longer claimed the ground at his feet, it challenge all comers, standing buoyant and springing, ready for... ready for her, though it looked past her shoulder.

Hannah took a scoop of clear water in a beaker and poured it over his groin, taking care to rinse the froth from his skin. His skin was not slippery any more. Her hands and his skin now clung. The grip on his shaft made his foreskin roll away at her light gesture.

She felt her own quiet sex stirring, beads of arousal melting to oil the folds of her sex. The hardness of his cock, the sheath of skin that glided over bumps and veins. This was hers, so she took it in her mouth, opening her jaws wide, her lips rolled in a protective O. Her tongue an anemone, first chastened, then exploring. Testing the little space with curiosity, rolling pink and hungry on his sex that filled her head.

Hannah flinched when he laid his hands on her head. She hadn't realised her eyes were closed, she only knew the life pulsing in her clasped hands, his sex crammed in her mouth. She would not let her fingers release him, but gave a gasp for breath as he lifted her chin.

Noah gave her a single nod, barely noticeable. His hand took hers, letting his penis shrug in disappointment. She promised to return to it, with a single upward caress, pulling his foreskin back over the sensitive glans, then let Noah guide her to their bed.

He lay back, the hairs on his chest still damp and his tummy curled with swirls of windblown grass. Hannah bent silently to unroll her leggings beside him. His eyes studied her movements. He watched her reveal her nakedness.

Her nudity had new meaning. Not the child he'd just bathed, small in his hands, nor the friend who'd quipped and joked, but the lover, silent and resolved. He understood their silence, knew the language of their desire and he too ached for the joy of sharing.

Hannah eyes were dark and stormy, her hunger deliberate and implacable. Her prey was waiting. Now to savour the feast of his body. Her mouth was dry, perhaps drained to her cunt, she mused. She swallowed with an effort, her breath shakey through her nose as she climbed onto him. He lay passive, the means to sate her need.

She rested her hands on his chest, her thighs gripped the saddle of his hips. Hannah pressed her sex onto his flattened shaft, its head for the moment hidden from her. She pushed her weight onto it, her lips squashed but still closed in mute denial. She frowned with irritation, impatient for more. She pushed her hips forward, their skin stretching, uncomfortably glued. She wriggled and felt her sex beginning to open, her petals wet, but not wet enough.

"Argh!" she cried in exasperation. She leapt from the bunk and in two steps grabbed her bag. "Sorry, I'm dry. I need this."

Flinging herself back into his saddle, she squeezed a clear bead across the pads of two fingers and gave a squeak as the cold lube coated her lips. Smiling conspiratorially, she put more on her hands and ran them over his cock, up and round. She rolled his foreskin back and smeared more, seeing his muscles tense, forcing him to groan.

Her sex now slithered up his shaft, liquid hot, flesh on flesh.

Hannah leaned forward to rub herself on his purple head, now unfurled to her. Her slick hand reached under his cock and she pressed him to her lips. She made little thrusts with her pelvis, closing her eyes to focus on the rising glow inside. Her pace quickened to a frenzy so it was a surprise when Noah gripped her wrist.

Hannah opened her eyes to his. He wriggled his body, lifted a knee and she understood. Raising herself high on her knees, she took his cock and put it to her cunt. She kept her hand there to make sure. She wanted him and was impatient.

She exhaled in relief as he slipped into her. 'So strange, this feeling. Where does he go? How does all that fit inside me?' the familiar question flicked into her mind.

"Hannah, Hannah," Noah called gently, sensing she was lost in thought.

Hannah looked up and Noah smiled at her familiar expression. Claudia looked up from her desk, her eyebrows raised to say, 'What is it my love?'

"What is it, Noah?" Hannah asked, seeing the puzzlement in his eyes.

Noah gave a little shake of his head and brushed the memory away. He propped himself onto his elbows and Hannah leaned forward to meet his kiss. She held his face in both hands.

"My fierce girl, Hannah. My fierce girl." Noah looked into her face with wet eyes.

Hannah was puzzled by his tears, uncertain of where his thoughts had taken him.

"Is it Claudia, Noah? Is she here too?"

Noah nodded. "But you are my fierce girl. Fuck me hard, Hannah. Fuck me back. Claudia is telling you. She wants us be here, alive, fucking. So fuck me, Hannah."

Hannah was confused and didn't understand him. He was mysterious to her. He had layers she had not yet discovered, but he wanted her. If she fucked him hard enough she might know him better. His cock was twitching inside her. He bucked his hips into her.

She began again, lifting, feeling him drag out of her sex, then down, the pressure more. Soon their rhythm quickened, their urgency returned.

Noah turned his wrist to reach her clit, but his fingers with too stiff, not right. He was already close and he wanted her to come. Hannah chased his fingers away and replaced them with her own.

Now she had him, now she would make him come. The pad of her finger dipped and rolled. She teased her clit back into its hood, pinching it, daring to graze it with her nail. Such a clever finger. It knew the way. Her hips slowed in their dance but his cock remained.

As she rubbed, he took over the rhythm, his orgasm was his own task. So he set about it, gripping the bend of her hips with pinching fingers. With each thrust he re-tightened his hold. She was the vessel he pulled onto his sex. The channel that sucked at his shaft.

Hannah's finger now paused, the steps of the dance complicated. Like a mouse that scurries from one place to another, her finger danced, teasing her closer. Slowly at first then all of a sudden, the mouse fell, its little legs flailed in blackness. Her breath changed from gasps to cries, making Noah shift his gaze from his dick in her sex to her face.

He watched with slower strokes as her orgasm shook her. He felt her cunt grip his cock and she would have pushed him out, but he pushed hard, pulling her hips down, leaving little red bruises in her skin.

"I want you on me, Noah. Crush me, Noah. Come in me." Hannah frowned at him as she supported her too sensitive breasts with her arm.

He understood she was done. He rolled, lifted and covered her. She needed a quick resolution and he must run to catch up.

He pulled her closer and gripped her shoulder. Their bodies were slick. He couldn't let her slip away. He wasted no time, he needed to finish. He thrust hard into her as her breasts shook, her knees pushed towards her shoulders and her breath came in grunts as her pushed the air from her lungs.