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Heinrix wakes up with a start. He looks up at the ceiling, the same dark metal that he is greeted by every morning in his own quarters, but in a different arrangement than the one above his own bed. There is an ache in his lower back and right hip. A quick scan of his body finds the culprit: a soft mattress, much softer than even the one he uses aboard Patient Fortune, which is a cloud compared to the ones found in the Inquisition barracks.
At that thought, he finally remembers: this is the Lord Captain’s room. He has been here many times by now, but last night, when he would normally have taken his leave, he had found that, instead, he had wanted to stay.
He looks to his right, expecting to find the Rogue Trader still asleep. Instead, Sesselie von Valancius is reclining against a pile of her pillows, her data slate in her right hand. At his slight movement, she looks over at him, her eyes dark in the dim lumen light. She smiles and it is so different from the smiles that he normally sees on her. Those smiles are big and wide, made to be seen by the public. In her quarters, when they are alone, she smiles at him with closed lips, the corners barely lifted, as if she were telling him a secret.
“Good morning, Heinrix,” she says.
“Good morning, Sesselie,” he replies, his voice still thick with sleep. “Is it … very late?”
“The lights only came on, so it should —” She glances across the room, presumably in the direction of a chronometer. Usually, when he is in this room, he is a bit too preoccupied to look for one. “Yes, it’s only just half past five, so not very late.”
So he had overslept past his normal waking time of five. A slip in discipline, but only a slight one. He would work to correct it. “You’re an early riser,” he says.
“Mm,” she says, turning her attention back to her data slate. “When we are on a planet, I like to go riding in the mornings.”
He turns on his side to better face her. “I remember.” he says, earning him another small smile.
“Were you watching me on Dargonus, Heinrix?” she says, her voice teasing.
As if she didn’t already know the answer to that question. He gives it anyway. “I’m always watching you.”
She does not reply, but she continues to smile as she looks at her data slate. He hears the click of a button as she navigates whatever she is reading, the light cast on her face from the device changing along with the data on the screen.
“What about when you aren’t on a planet?” he asks.
“Mm? Oh, it’s not nearly as fun.” She looks back at him, turning her slate towards him at the same time. “I catch up on work before Nesie comes in to get me dressed.”
He shifts on the bed so that his head is on one of the many pillows supporting her back. Sure enough, there is a report on the screen about the system that they are current flying through, one that he recognizes as part of the information packet collated by her navigation team for everyone at or above the officer level.
The name of her head attendant is a bitter reminder that his time with her is limited. As she settles back into her pillows to read, he slides just a little more towards her so his nose grazes the skin on her arm. “I should leave before she comes in,” he says, more to himself than to her.
Sesselie lifts the arm between them, moving it so that her hand is on his shoulder. “If you want to,” she says. “She won’t enter until half past six unless I ring for her.”
He does the calculation despite himself: that leaves him an entire hour to linger. Still, the rest of the officer deck will stir soon, increasing the likelihood of someone spotting him as he heads back to his own room. Still, he has his exercises to do, as well as his own reports to review. Still, some part of him says that he needs to keep some small semblance of distance between them, something to keep himself from missing moments like this when he can no longer have them.
She rubs her thumb on his shoulder as she reads, neither pulling him towards nor pushing him away, and Heinrix finds that, once again, he wants to stay.
He moves again, just a little bit closer. Sesselie shifts in her pillows so that he can set his head on her chest, just below her collarbone. She presses a kiss to the top of his head and he feels his heart clench at the gesture, a tenderness that he has not experienced in — well, he cannot think of the last time.
He puts his left hand on her belly, just below where she is holding her data slate. She is only wearing a night gown, a gauzy thing that hangs down to her knees. He flattens his palm against the warm fabric, lets his fingers drag it across her skin when he cannot help but slide them further across her body. Without a word, Sesselie sets her data slate on her nightstand. She wraps both arms around him then and he cannot help it again, he shifts his body even closer so that he is flush against her.
When she bends down to kiss him on the crown of his head once more, Heinrix feels the last bit of his restraint shatter.
He kisses at her collarbone, his hand sliding up her body. He palms her breast, groans at how thin the fabric is, how he can feel her nipple as it hardens at his touch. He has only the one arm free due to their position, so he lets go of her breast, returning his hand to her belly, then moves it even lower. He know that she is wearing nothing underneath her nightgown — he had, after all, been the one to remove her undergarments last night — so when he gathers up the fabric and slides his hand up her thigh, he does not stop until his fingertips encounter coarse curls. She opens her legs, just enough that he can slip his fingers along her slit, still slick from his prior night’s spend.
He presses a finger inside of her, tries to shift his body so that he can kiss her at the same time. Despite them both moving, with her pile of pillows in the way, he finds himself with his mouth on her nose and her mouth on his chin. They both laugh as they try again, his finger still teasing her entrance as they finally manage to bring their mouths together. He laughs so much now in her company.
As their tongues tangle, Sesselie pushes against him until he removes his hand and rolls onto his back. They are once again on his side of the bed with its much more reasonable single pillow and he settles his head into it as Sesselie moves to slide her leg over his, her hand already trailing down his belly. She had put her night gown on before falling asleep, but Heinrix had not bothered. He had known that, if he had left the bed, he would have felt compelled to leave the room, which means that there is nothing in the way of her hand as it finds its way to his already stiffening cock.
“Sesselie,” he mutters as she wraps her fingers around him. She spreads the wetness gathering at his tip along his head then strokes him, keeping her hand loose as she teases his length.
Heinrix put his hand on her thigh with his left hand, pushes at it until she slides it the rest of the way across his body. She straddles his legs, then sits up so that she is looking down at him, his cock still in her hand.
He is aware of the time, or he can pretend that is the reason why he reaches for the hem of her nightgown and pushes it over her bottom. He can pretend that it is prudence that has him shoving at the fabric until she lets go of him long enough to take up the nightgown and pull it over her head. He can pretend that it is efficiency that has him run his hands up her rear to her back, that has him ease her down until he can catch the tip of one of her breasts in his mouth. Nesie will be here soon, after all, and he can pretend that is the reason that he grinds his cock against her mound until she reaches her hand between them and guides him to her entrance.
He groans his pleasure against her skin as she slides down his length, grips at her hips as she rocks them to fuck him in lazy thrusts, the long braid of her hair grazing his ear as it hangs past his head to the pillow. He moves his mouth to her other breast, takes her nipple between his teeth just hard enough to cause her to cry out.
Heinrix is lost in her, in her body and her soft skin and her big soft bed with too many pillows, lost in the smell of her hair oil and fine soaps, lost in the feeling of her hand as it slides between their bodies to touch her clit, in the feeling of her cunt as it grips at him, so lost that he nearly jumps when Sesselie suddenly laughs.
Before he can say anything, she sits up, his cock buried in her to the hilt. “I did say that I liked to go riding in the mornings,” she says with a grin.
“You really cannot help yourself,” he says, his hands already going back to her waist.
She puts one hand on his belly for balance, the other going back to her clit. “You adore it,” she says as she begins to ride him again.
Heinrix does not reply. He cannot reply, for fear of what might come out. In his head though, he feels it ringing, a realization that he has been fighting for days now, one that will undo him if he lets it take root: he wants to stay. He wants to stay, not just here in this bed, but on the Patient Fortune. He wants to stay at her side. But it isn’t just what he wants, is it? No, it is what he feels for her, this seed that took root months ago and has grown into a vine that threatens to crush his heart.
He’s in love with her.
Sesselie leans forward again, moaning into his mouth as she kisses him. He can feel how close she is, how tightly she is squeezing him as she strokes herself with her fingers. He follows her tempo, lifting his hips to meet her thrusts so that she whimpers into his mouth each time she slides down him. He feels her rhythm stutter just before she groans, a rough sound that resonates both of their chests, and as she shudders above him he tightens his grip on her waist, pumping up in hard strokes until he, too, finds his release.
They continue to kiss as she settles against him. His cock softens inside of her, but he is loath to remove himself, knowing that the clock must be ever closer to the time when he will have to leave.
Finally, she pulls away, breaking the kiss so that she can look down at him. “Good morning, Heinrix,” she says with a smile.
He smiles back. “Good morning, Sesselie.”