AUTHOR: Matt, October 2002
SUMMARY: A night-time moment for Beka and Tyr
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: These characters are not mine and never will be.
THANKS: To Deanie, for betareading this for me.
FEEDBACK: Always appreciated.
+++
Moments like these were the ones to cherish, Beka realised as she lay in his arms. The occasions when sex was not first and foremost in their minds were the happiest times she could think of in recent memory. Lying next to Tyr brought about a contentment she had never known before. There in the dark, watching the stars flash by, she felt the comfortable warmth of his skin as his arms embraced her.
“You’re awake,” his gruff voice startled her.
“Er, yes. Sorry, did I wake you?”
“No.” He shifted slightly, nestling closer. “Your breathing and heartbeat are different when you are awake.”
“Oh.”
“Are you all right?”
“Hmm? Oh yes,” she replied as she stared out of the window. “I was just thinking.”
She felt his kiss on the back of her head. “About?”
“Us.”
There was a pause and then he shifted again, so that he was snug against her and his arms clasped her tighter. If she didn’t know better, Beka would have taken it as a sign of insecurity on Tyr’s part.
“Oh, nothing serious,” she replied casually, knowing that he could usually spot her deceit. “Just thinking how nice this is, lying here, you know.”
He rested his head on her shoulder. “I am glad it is not more serious than that,” he said.
She smiled into the darkness. “I was also thinking of our first time together.” She remembered knowing instantly, the moment they touched, that her life would never be the same again.
+++
They were on the Maru, coming back from a supply pickup on Sonoma Drift. Tyr was in a mood over something. Beka wasn’t sure what, but had a feeling it was something that she had done. Or not done. She wasn’t sure which. As a result, she was on the bridge, alone, while he rested on one of the bunks. At this point in time she was desperately wishing that Dylan had seen fit to send someone else with her to the Drift, but apparently Tyr had been the best for the job.
He’d been good, she reflected ruefully. Although he made for lousy company, he was good protection, which had been necessary after those goons at the supply depot had thought they could make a little side money. With Harper by her side, Beka realised, she might not have got off the Drift alive.
Somewhere it occurred to her that perhaps she ought to apologise, for whatever she might have done. He had, after all, saved her life, with only a few cuts and bruises to show that she’d even been in a gunfight, let alone a severe one.
She took a deep breath and stood up and turned to leave the bridge.
And walked straight into a tall, muscular body.
“Damn it, Tyr,” she exclaimed. “Do you have to sneak up on people like that?”
He held her arms to steady her, creating warm imprints on her skin. “I am sorry,” he said softly.
“Funny,” she managed to laugh. “That’s just what I was going to say.”
“Really?” he asked softly. His dark eyes bore into hers and she suddenly found herself shivering. “You’re cold?” he questioned.
“No… yes… I mean,” she floundered. “I’m sorry, Tyr, I mean…” Hell, she realised she had no clue what she meant. His touch was burning her up and she was on the verge of drowning in the intensity of his gaze. ‘Get a grip, Valentine,’ she chastised herself. ‘This is Tyr. He doesn’t go for human.’ That line of thought failed to help her so she changed tactics. ‘He’s your crewmate. It would be like doing it with Harper.’
There was just one problem with that thought. Tyr was not Harper, would never be Harper, and as much as Harper might want to score with every available woman, he was not the one whose eyes she was currently lost in. Nor was it Harper’s lips towards which she found herself inexplicably drawn.
The first touch was a tentative one, but any hesitation on either of their parts was lost as his hands moved from her arms to her back. Her own arms shot around his neck, pulling his mouth closer to hers. Tongues tangled, duelled for equal time, and somewhere Beka heard someone groan although she couldn’t be sure just from whom the sound had come. Finally, due to a shortness of breath, Beka wrenched herself away from Tyr’s embrace.
Embarrassed at such a loss of control in front of someone who could never see her as anything more than a crewmate, she turned away. “Tyr, I…” she faltered. What could she say? How could she possibly explain her irrational actions? No doubt he thought even less of her now than he had before this run, if such a thing were possible. Confusion and embarrassment slowly turned to anger. Anger at him for his high opinions and anger at herself for having put herself into this predicament. “Damn!” she shouted and stormed off down the corridor.
Beka was back to her bunk by the time he caught up with her, reaching out a long arm to grasp her shoulder and spin her around. She refused to meet his gaze, preferring to stare at the metal plating of the floor. Even when he placed a gentle hand under her chin, forcing her to face him she kept her focus steadfastly behind him. “Leave me alone,” she muttered, willing herself not to lose her temper in front of him; they both knew who would win such a confrontation.
“Beka,” he started softly. “Are you all right?”
“No,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “I just made the biggest ass of myself, and now I’m going to get the lecture on the inappropriateness of my actions. Well, I don’t need it, okay? I made a stupid, dumb, mistake and I don’t need you rubbing it in, thank you very much.”
His hand slid up her face and came to a rest on her cheek. “You are saying that what happened there was a mistake?” he asked.
She stared at him. “Wouldn’t you?”
He seemed to pause for a moment and Beka waited for the inevitable lecture to start. “Actually, no.”
“What?”
Tyr smiled and she saw again just how gorgeous the man could be when he wasn’t looking so serious. “Beka Valentine, you are an amazing, beautiful, attractive, woman. Any man would be a fool not to notice that. And any man would be a fool not to act on that.”
“Yeah, right,” she said sarcastically. “As long as he’s not Nietzschean, right?”
He seemed amused by her comments. “Do not judge me by the words and actions of others. You were not the only one on this vessel to be involved in what happened back there. And I do not recall being forced into anything against my will.” He paused again. “Trust me, you would have known.”
Beka realised he was right. She would have definitely known if Tyr had been angry with her actions. So, if he wasn’t angry with her…? The confusion returned; swiftly followed by her own defence mechanism - anger. “So what are you saying, Tyr? That you thought you’d indulge, see what it felt like to French kiss a kludge. Well, now you know.”
Still he was amused. “Are you not hearing what I am saying?” he asked, shaking his head. “What would you be doing now if I was human?”
Beka bit her lip. Well, that was an awkward question, one they both knew the answer to. She cast a sideways glance at the bunk to her side.
“You would not even be hesitating, would you?”
“But you’re not human,” she burst out. “You’re Nietzschean. And therefore we both know that whatever would normally happen is not going to happen.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
Keeping his hand on her cheek he lowered his mouth onto her open one. This time the touch was more certain, both parties grasping at each other tightly as their hands explored the contours of each other’s bodies. Before Beka was entirely sure what was happening, Tyr had lowered both of them onto the bunk. Clothing was pulled away from their bodies and tossed to the other side of the room. Beka felt as though she was burning up as bare skin touched bare skin.
Tyr’s touch was electric. He took the time to explore her body thoroughly, slowly working his way down her flesh. His mouth drifted from one creamy breast to the other, while his hands slid slowly down her waist. As his teeth lightly grazed her nipples, she couldn’t help but moan. Still he continued on, running his tongue across her skin, and his head finally came to a rest between her legs.
“Tyr?” she questioned. Everything she had heard led her to believe that Nietzscheans were short on foreplay and even shorter on the actual act of intercourse. She couldn’t believe he was being so gentle with her.
He placed a kiss on each of her thighs. “I think you’d prefer we did this your way, rather than mine?” he said with a smile.
“Oh, yes, er… thanks… Tyr!” she screamed as his tongue found her nub. Where had he learned to do that, she wondered. Had he taken humans as lovers before? It was not something she wanted to contemplate.
His head reappeared and she was immediately frustrated at the loss of contact. “I read,” he said. “While you and the others spend your time partying during our leisure time, I read, and learn.”
Beka smiled weakly. “I think I’m glad you do,” she gasped, as he slid a finger into her. A second finger soon joined it, both of them swirling within her wetness. Her body began to writhe beneath his ministrations and she almost launched off the bed when his mouth joined in the serenade to her. Steadily she began to climb to that high plateau, only to fall over the edge screaming.
She had barely caught her breath when Tyr slid up her body and leaned over her, his strong arms elevating his weight off her. He laid a light kiss on her lips. “Beka,” he murmured hoarsely. “I need you… I need to be inside…”
“To mate?” she said uncertainly. This was where it could all come crumbling down. The Nietzschean instinct was to mate, which meant to make the union permanent. Beka wasn’t sure she was entirely ready for that. Neither was she sure that such a union would be good for Tyr.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I told you earlier. We will do this your way.” He smiled down at her, and she knew he wanted to alleviate her fears. “I would like nothing greater than to mate with you, but I sense you are not ready for that yet.”
She gulped. “I’m sorry.” And she was. Tyr had surprised her with that statement; she had obviously underestimated just how highly he did think of her. Beka wasn’t big on commitment they both knew it. She preferred to take it one step at a time. Apparently, he understood and was willing to accept that.
He moved slightly and she felt him pressing for entrance. “Beka?” he asked uncertainly. “I am willing to do this the human way. I will make no demands on you after tonight, unless you wish it. I will not force you into a permanent union with you, unless you wish it.”
Beka’s arms looped around his neck. “Oh, Tyr,” she sighed. “Are you sure?”
“Do not believe me?”
“Yes, I do but…” She didn’t want to force him into something that he might regret later.
“I want you, Beka. I want to be inside you.” He shifted again and she felt how strong and hard and firm he was. He sought access to her inmost being… “Yes,” she sobbed, clasping him to her, and he surged inside her. He filled her immediately, pressing against her inner walls, his body shaking with need. Her hands clawed at his backside, wanting more of him, wanting all that he could offer to her. Her vision blurred as he pounded into her and, with a few swift strokes, he emptied himself into her.
+++
Tyr laughed softly and she felt his breath on her skin. “It was, indeed, a memorable time.” He was silent for a time and Beka wondered if he had fallen back to sleep. “Beka? Promise me something.”
“Sure,” she said lightly, although inwardly she dreaded what he might have to ask of her. “Whatever happens,” he began hesitantly. “I want you to hang onto these times, remember that first moment between us.”
“Tyr…”
“Sssh, Beka.” He moved a hand up and lightly placed a finger on her lips. “Beka, I cannot promise to be with you always. We both know that cannot be. But I…” Tyr hesitated again. “I want you to remember that no matter what female I may have to take as my wife, you, you, will always be my first wife.”
Beka’s heart sunk. He was voicing her very fears; that one day he would have to leave her and take a Nietzschean wife, for the continuity and strengthening of his pride. Tears began to trickle down her cheek and she instantly felt ashamed at showing such weakness in front of him.
“No, Beka,” he said softly as he held her even tighter. “Please understand. She might be first in name, but it will be in name only. You will always come first in my heart.”
She hiccuped as she took in his words. A few years ago she might never have believed such words could come from him; Nietzschean’s were not big on romantic love, only mating for the survival of the fittest. She marvelled at how much he had changed, and how much she had changed also that she should revel in this level of commitment from a man.
“First in my heart,” he repeated, sweeping back her hair and placing gentle kisses on her neck.
“I will,” she whispered. “I will remember.”
“Good. It will serve you well.”
She turned over and leaned her head on his chest. “I will remember,” she told him again.
His hands stroked her back comfortingly. “Thank you,” he whispered against her. “It is all I can ask of you.”
They lay in silence together, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Gradually his breathing evened out and Beka knew he was sleeping. She smiled contentedly; whatever came, it would not come tonight. Tonight, they were where they belonged. With each other.
FINIS