fighting_mad | [OOM] Simulator Room

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[OOM] Simulator Room

Juke left, juke right, juke left, juke right; lure your opponent into a false sense of security, make him think he knows exactly what you're going to do.

Lasers flash by on the screen.

One last juke to the right, and there's the light-up of a targeting lock; she yanks the stick back and to the left, throwing the sim fighter into a tight roll that should press her back against the seat with its force. Of course, this machine isn't nearly complex enough for that.

She's got to find some way to throw the Priamsta off guard like that. To catch the rebels--the ones who say they're lead by Harran but they're not they can't be--off guard and--

The flash of an explosion and the screen goes dark.

"Sithspit!" Plourr slams an open palm against the overhead frame of the simulator, then lets her hand rest there, hooked on the frame.

She runs her other hand over her head in an unconscious motion; auburn stubble still foreign to the touch, too rough and scratchy. Hell, her whole body feels foreign; her tunic is smooth and skintight, eggshell-colored with deep purple, allowing every cord of muscle to show. She's not used to anything so fine, and she's definitely not used to the matching skirt, to seeing her legs bare in anything but athletic shorts. High heels. She'd drawn whistles from the Rogues that afternoon; joking whistles, yes, and ones that had earned several of them glares and thwappings, but she had caught admiring looks from not a few men at court, too. From the nobles at dinner.

Dinner.

"The tyranny of the nobles is at an end, Laabann. I will see to that. If you wish a place in the future of Eiattu, either stand with the throne-- or fall."

The crash of a breaking wineglass.

"The choice is yours."

Plourr hits the top of the simulator again.

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"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly your average princess, Aeryn." She mouths her way back up again, and willfully knocks Aeryn onto her back and kisses her senseless.

More like a wrestler, Aeryn thought, grinning a second before Plourr hit.

Tongues tangled, fighting for superiority, Aeryn gave way. Her hands drifted downwards managing to shift the skirt lower. Her index finger circled Plourr's bellybutton, small, languid circuits; like jogging around the lake on a smaller scale and a whole lot more enjoyable.

Enjoyable for Aeryn maybe. Plourr, on the other hand, is the one being teased. She shifts restlessly in a clear yes, get the damn thing off me move, growling low into Aeryn's mouth.

Not as easy as it sounds, Aeryn grunted, meaning pretty obvious.

After several more microts of tangling with the damn thing she held it up triumphantly and promptly slung it across the floor.

There is a now-entirely-nude pilot grinning wildly against Aeryn's lips. Not for long, though; she finally releases Aeryn's lower lip from her teeth and then is sliding down her body, licking here, biting there. There are detours along the way, but her destination is obvious.

Aeryn was never much of a squirmer, but it was becoming very obvious how she felt.

The slight twisting of her hips, the groan of a curse word as Plourr made her way lower. Dark eyelashes bent against her flushed cheeks.

She should say something, should do something; anything but lie here like she was glued to the icy table. Trapped. Held utterly in place by a feeling she no longer thought wrong and an eager tongue.

She slides callused hands down the other woman's hips and peels off her underwear, sitting back on her heels an admiring moment to slip them down her legs and drop them. Then she's back on her knees again, leaning over and dragging her full lower lip slowly up Aeryn's thigh. Her tongue flicks out and tastes the join between leg and pelvis.

She opened her mouth to speak, hesitation, but it was too late and when the moan broke free she didn't want to stop it anymore.

She hadn't thought it would be different. Men, women, Aeryn had assumed only the obvious things weren't the same. Frell, it was something. Not the same at all. Just as good...just as...all her thoughts were scrambled and she couldn't hold them anymore.

There was a kind of detachment.

Only sensations. The sound of panting, strangled inwards, was that her? She could feel the table sticking to her clammy back as she arched. The tingles, spreading outward. But it was like someone else. She brought herself back, hand idly stroking the back of Plourr's neck.

Her hair had grown since last time, friction against Aeryn's fingers.

And Plourr breaths a moment before her insistent mouth moves the couple of inches necessary to the left.

Hands on Aeryn's hips, and--

Really, Aeryn doesn't taste half bad.

"Fr-dr-he..." Caught between her lips was every swear word she could think of, a nonsensical jumble.

Her chest heaved and she breathed in so sharply it burned her throat. Quietly, almost silently Aeryn moaned. No time to think, no time to stop, no time to do anything but let her fingers scrabble helplessly at the table for something, anything to hold onto.

Those moans aren't going to stay quiet for long. Plourr is determined of that. Inclining her head further, she rolls her tongue. Repeatedly.

Unfair. That is in blatant violation of the same-sex rules charter, not that Aeryn is capable of pointing that out.

A trembling, throaty word flowed from her mouth; half-Plourr's name, half-whimper. She could feel her muscles protesting, hard-burn at the angle they were being bent. The soldier stretched her body further, bare buttocks rising up from the table.

Her heart beat out a harsh rhythm and it was practically all Aeryn could hear, her stomach matched it. In, out, undulating with waves of pleasure.

She physically couldn't take anymore. Mind whirling, body breaking, she cried out; a small sound fading in the humid air.

Hell but those sounds make her stomach clench. Jaw tight, she presses a kiss against inner thigh and then sprawls back up again, watching the expression on the other woman's face for a self-satisfied (sexually frustrated) half-second before biting Aeryn's earlobe.

"Mmm." Aeryn murmured softly, against the line of Plourr's jaw. She left herself a moment, just the tiniest moment, to smile before nipping at Plourr's lip.

Sleepiness threatened to overwhelm her, but she ignored it, concentrating on the pilot's weight on her; letting the adrenalin flow. Once again, her hand travelled the path to Plourr's belly, pushing lower this time, caressing.

She left her lips against the very edge of the other woman's, breathing warm air onto her skin.

She takes in a fiercely grateful breath that shakes more than she would care to admit, eyes fluttering closed. She presses her hips closer to Aeryn's hand, unable to stop the low, needy sound that escapes her throat even if she'd cared enough to try.

Beautiful. That was what she expected least. That with time to look, Plourr really was beautiful.

Her heart didn't throb like it did when she thought of Jack, but...Plourr was perfect, just as she was. And this didn't hurt. It felt good.

Aeryn kissed the bottom of her chin, a small kiss. It said absolutely everything she couldn't convey in words.

But her hand moved, into wetness and softness; warmth and a strangeness she hadn't equated anyone else as having before. Urgently, it pressed inward, kneading with tenderness and an entire lack of politeness. What good was it to be polite now?

Plourr's eyes open wide, go vacant and so hungry.

The sound that tears out of her throat is hoarse exclamation and gasp and strangled moan all in one; it's breathless and low and incomprehensible. She spreads her legs wider, hips bearing down.

Fingers molded, fitted her shape, stretching and bending her as much as they were themselves.

Aeryn's other hand wrapped around the back of Plourr's neck, holding her close. Second. It was the second time and she realised with some fervour that she had never wanted to stop; that feelings and idiotic things had merely cluttered this up.

It was simple really, need, lust; tenderness. It was all fulfilled in the end.

"Just-- just a little to the lef--" Filled and a flash-no that isn't right it's something very solid and real-a wham of sensation that's the spot and her hips roll up with a broken, "Oh yeah." She instinctively buries her face in Aeryn's neck, fingers tight on her arm.

It's a few moments of increasingly hard panting and absolute incoherency and she can't think can't breathe and there may be more talking against Aeryn's throat, but who the hell knows? Not Plourr, certainly, and she has no idea what's coming out of her mouth but it's those few minutes of heat and kriffkriffkriff before she's shuddering herself to pieces.

The tiniest of laughs, a rumbling near the top of Plourr's head and Aeryn pressed her mouth to the not-quite bald anymore skull.

Plourr quivered around her and in the back of her brain somewhere a voice noted the oddness of the situation. Then her hands were her own again, damp and helping her friend, her lover, back to the hard table and their sweat soaked bodies.

"Are you alright?" A gentle, tired query, unable to hide the slow grin on her face.

"Mnehnefennn."

Yeah, it doesn't make any sense to Plourr, either. She's deadweight. Content deadweight; Aeryn can probably feel the equally lazy grin form against her skin. A good workout, and sex especially, it always does something to her. Calms her some; leaves her unable to keep up the energy that usually keeps her moving, talking, arguing. Leaves her mind less cluttered. Less angry.

But she does move her head back so that it's her nose pressed against Aeryn's neck rather than her mouth. " 'M good."

"You seem a little exhausted."

And there's that laugh again, intoxicated. Aeryn's pretty sure their legs are so tangled that a Chelsyk fire hose couldn't separate them. She was happy to stay that way for now.

"My toes are cold. I think you leeched all my warmth." She stretched her arms above her head, chest...bouncing might be an appropriate word.

Plourr flops onto her side (leaving their legs tangled; way too much work to try to fix that) to better witness said bouncing. She watches a moment, and then, well.

Aeryn has an approving, buck-naked-besides-jewelry princess grinning lecherously at her.

There's a first time for everything.

She scoffs. "Wimp." But she covers Aeryn's feet with her own (after a kick or two).

Aeryn snorted in reply. She didn't need to explain scornfully how she'd had bravery drilled into her since she was old enough to walk. There was a sort of wordless communication now, one that made her lie her head down on the table (hair for a pillow) and smile.

Then there was merely a contented murmur and she shut her eyes.

Sleeping. On a table. In the sim room.

Why not?

Plourr doesn't have much hair to use as a pillow.

She borrows some of Aeryn's.

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[OOM] Simulator Room

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