concocting arcane inks

FIC: [Vandread] 'Trust' 2/2 (BC/Meia, NC-17)

Mon, 27 Jun 2005 10:21:42 GMT

And the second part of 'Trust':

Fandom: Vandread (anime)
Date Finished: June 27th, 2005
Classification: Angst, WAFF, Romance, PWP
Pairing: BC/Meia
Rating: NC-17
Note: Direct sequel to ‘Himegoto’. Response to challenge #1 (Anonymity, or, "Taken by the Faceless Stranger") in the 30_lemons community.

Trust
By Elsewhere
elsewherecw@shaw.ca

All other information in Part One.

Part Two:

*****

She dreamed that night, the kind of dreams she hadn’t experienced in months. First she was running down a pitch-black corridor, crying helplessly. She knew she was being pursued, and every time she tried a door, it was inevitably locked. Then she was on the streets, walking through the rain. This dream was only marked by its absence of human presence---she was, literally, the only person left on the planet.

She woke shivering, keeping her eyes closed against the phantoms of her mind. She stiffened, going still, when she first realized that she was restrained. Her first instinct was to struggle, but sense returned to her quickly, the dreamscape dropping away as she recognized reality.

She remained still, though her eyes were open and staring unseeing into the darkness. She was in BC’s room, in BC’s bed. BC’s arm was wrapped around her…BC’s body was pressed against hers, suffusing her with warmth. She shivered again, but this time she felt no fear.

Her eyes slid closed again as she allowed herself a small smile. The dreams were due to stress, she was certain. Adjusting to this relationship involved a certain amount of anxiety, and required a certain amount of effort. Several times in the last few weeks she’d found herself drifting into contemplation, musing about the position she found herself in.

But now her position was entirely different. They had reached the next level of intimacy, almost faster than she had time to recognize it, and now a lot of the contemplative "what-ifs" were necessarily present concerns. The release she had found that night in BC’s arms came at the price of an emotional tension that would take much longer to resolve. She had resigned herself to this---or no, not resigned. She had agreed to move forward with this. She was *determined* to move forward with this.

Their intimacy of the night before had only proved to her that her interest was genuine, her determination not unfounded. This *was* something worth trying for.

But the thought frightened her; that was undeniable. The thought of trusting someone---not only with her body, with physical intimacy, but with her mind and, even more terrifyingly, her heart---sent her reeling back into the nightmares of her youth, a time when she had come to believe that she would never trust again.

And that she would choose to place her trust in a man…the thought still left her vaguely numb. Right here, right in this moment, lying in BC’s bed and wrapped in BC’s warm embrace, she…they were challenging everything they had ever known to be true and right. Together, in this bed, they were advancing a quiet revolution. And of all the battles to be fought in life, she felt sure that a battle against a lifetime’s beliefs and values must be the hardest.

/But as with all of my other battles, I *will* fight to the best of my ability,/ she thought to herself with a smirk, even as her hand clasped BC’s, holding it tight against her belly. /This is worth fighting for./

"What are you thinking about?"

She started, a short cry rising up in her throat that she only just managed to clamp down in time. He was awake!

"I’m sorry, did I startle you?" He sounded amused, and she took in a shuddering breath as the palm of his hand flattened against her lower abdomen, his fingers gently kneading her muscles.

"Yes…I didn’t know you were awake," she said honestly, her voice breathless. "How long have you been?"

"Since you awoke, I imagine." It was only in this vocalization that she realized the difference in his voice. The deep, unmistakably masculine voice of the night before was gone, replaced with his usual sultry contralto. "I’ve always been a light sleeper."

She sighed, closing her eyes, as she felt his mouth on her bare shoulder, his teeth gently nibbling at her skin.

"I was…thinking about how determined I am to see this through," she murmured, and she felt him still against her.

"Oh?" he said after a moment.

"Yes. I think this is worth making the effort for, despite the…awkwardness."

He remained still, his arm still warmly around her waist, and she waited, breath held, for a response.

"I agree," he said finally, his voice soft. "And I think---correct me if I’m mistaken---that we made considerable progress last night."

Although she was sure he was referring to emotional intimacy, the thought of the ‘progress’ they had made last night sent a rush of heat to her cheeks.

"You’re not mistaken," she said quietly.

"I’m glad," he whispered, and she couldn’t help but smile. That was BC, as always concerned about the needs of others above his own. She would have to change that at some point, at least where this relationship was concerned. The only worth in trying, in her eyes, was if they were to try together.

With this thought in mind, she squirmed a bit in his grip until he took the hint and lifted his arm. Free of her restraint, she flipped over, and listened to the soft sound of surprise he let out when she snuggled up against him, her hands against his breasts.

She felt him catch his breath, his chest going still under her palms, as she leaned in and touched her lips to his. He let the breath out slowly into her mouth, relaxing into her touch as she kissed him, gradually exploring his mouth while her hands lazily traveled over his chest.

At first he stiffened, just as he had the first time they had kissed, when her fingers circled his nipples. This time she noted the reaction, and backed off, her hands smoothing over the sides of his breasts, cupping underneath them and massaging gently while her tongue tangled with his, holding his attention in the kiss. He relaxed against her, his own hands rubbing in slow circles over her back; he was allowing her the upper hand, and she appreciated it. She wanted the time to explore him, the way he had explored her.

She broke away slowly, smiling to herself at the way he dipped his head, following the retreat of her mouth as though he didn’t want the kiss to end. Her smile widened, this time in satisfaction, at the pleased hum that escaped him when she nuzzled into his neck, tongue and teeth teasing the column of his throat. When she dragged her lips along the joint where his jaw met his cheek, then nibbled against the soft skin just below, his skin pulsing against her mouth, he trembled, the hum becoming something of a low purr. His hands tightened on her shoulder blades as he let out a muffled groan, and she stored this information in the back of her mind. She’d found a sensitive place, and through its exploitation she now had him at her mercy.

His body remained pliant against hers even as she pressed her hands to his shoulders, encouraging him to lie flat against the bed, and slid herself over top of him, straddling his hips. She continued to suck and lave his pulse point, encouraged by the way he squirmed slightly under her touch. Distracted by the pleasant sensation of her mouth on his skin, he didn’t stiffen or protest as her hands returned to their exploration of his breasts.

She began with the gentlest of massages, her hands closing lightly over his breasts, his nipples pressed against her palms. With her thumbs, she smoothed and pressed the supple flesh. Encouraged by the way he sighed and seemed to lift slightly towards her, she continued on to brush her hands over his nipples, first gently and then more firmly. Feeling them harden beneath her touch, she curled her fingers lightly around them and pinched ever so slightly, awaiting reaction. He groaned, trembling under her hands, so she smiled to herself again, determined to continue.

Her mouth made its way along the side of his face until she reached his ear, her tongue and teeth exploring this new territory as her hands ran slowly down his sides, smoothing over curvaceous hips before she reached the hem of his shirt. She felt him stiffen slightly when her fingers first brushed against bare skin, fingertips ghosting over his midriff as she pushed her hands up beneath the shirt. She was quick to respond to this new sign of inhibition, returning her mouth back to square one. He accepted the kiss readily enough, his hands lacing through her hair as she tangled her tongue with his, again distracting him. He had almost gone slack against her again, but when her fingers traced under the flesh of his breasts, she felt his mouth go still against hers.

She sat up, pulling her hands back to rest on his ribcage, evidently safer territory.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, and she listened as he sighed.

"I’m sorry," he said, and she could tell by the note of impatience in his voice that he was more disappointed with himself than she felt at her lack of progress. "But no one has ever touched me like that before. It’s…strange."

"Men don’t do this?" she asked, her thumbs again lightly tracing the undersides of his breasts, feeling him tremble reflexively in response.

"No, we do," he countered, his voice somewhat strained. "But I have not engaged in…anything like this, at all…since my body was changed."

Curiosity welled up in her, begging to be set free.

"How did it happen?" she asked, her hands once again moving in slow circles over his ribcage. "Did you…grow them? Or…"

She stopped, aware of the awkwardness of her wording, and her lack of a reference point from which to speak more competently.

"No. I was offered the opportunity to achieve this body shape naturally, by hormonal treatment," he said, his voice growing a bit distant as he spoke. "But they warned me that there would be changes to my voice as well…permanent changes. I was afraid to lose my voice, at the time. It’s ironic…now I have no use for it at all."

"I like your voice," she said, the words tumbling off her tongue before she thought about them. She blinked in surprise at herself.

He was silent.

"So then, how…?" she asked, encouraging him to take up his story again.

"They’re implants. The best our technology had to offer," he said, and evidently he was still appreciating the irony; his tone was somewhat sardonic.

"They feel real," she said, a bit more hesitant to speak her mind this time.

"I’m sure the doctors on Talark would be glad to hear it," he said, and she stiffened a bit at his tone.

"I’m sorry…should I not have asked?" She posed the question carefully.

"Of course you should have asked," he said, and she jumped when she felt him shift beneath her, suddenly sitting up. Against her will she slid back from where she had been sitting lightly against his abdomen, and landed squarely in his lap. She stiffened, instantly aware of the presence of that odd sensation against her bottom, just like the night before.

"There are things you’ll need to know," he murmured against her cheek, and it was only when he enfolded her in his arms, gently pulling her closer to him, that she realized she was shivering.

For the moment, she decided to avoid the subject---or rather, she felt the need to. Her voice was breathy when she spoke.

"If you find them awkward…why do you remain this way?" she asked, and again, she wasn’t aware of how stiff she was against him until she felt his fingers intertwining with hers and squeezing, encouraging her to relax.

"Good question," he said quietly, his lips against her cheek. "And one I don’t know how to answer. I said I’d become comfortable like this…but evidently ‘comfortable’ isn’t quite the right word. When I returned to Earth, and faced the possibility of returning to the way I had been, I found myself unable to bear the thought. At some point, I *had* become one of you, in mind and body. I…was afraid of losing all that I had gained."

"I suppose that makes sense," she agreed, after thinking about it for a moment. Talking to him, feeling his hands in hers, helped her forget her nervousness. "But then…why won’t you let me touch you?"

"I will," he said, softly. "But it may take time before it comes to feel less strange to me."

She nodded, wordlessly accepting his subtle expression of permission, and retrieved her hands. His hands rested on her hips as she returned to her previous task with a new determination. Her hands were as gentle as she knew how as she pushed up the shirt, lifting it over his torso until he lifted his arms. She waited while he took it off and tossed it away, listening to the hoarse sound of his breathing---he *was* nervous about this, very nervous. When his hands again fell to her hips, she continued.

She started slowly, her hands cautiously massaging his belly, her fingertips tracing over and around his ribs. She felt him breathing before she heard it, his chest shuddering against her palms. Again, she began carefully, her thumbs tracing along the underside of his bare breasts. When he sighed but didn’t stiffen, she cupped his breasts in her hands and lifted them slightly, weighing them against her palms. They did feel real…nothing struck her as being off or ‘strange’ about them. Evidently Talark were more technologically advanced than they were renowned for. But then, she supposed she should have realized that already, after the number of times she had been helped by Duero.

She felt his breathing quicken as she flicked her thumbs over his nipples once before smoothing her palms over them. Just like a woman’s, his nipples hardened into points against her hands, and just like a woman, he sighed in appreciation as she massaged the warm flesh in her hands. She felt him stiffen only slightly when she bent her head, her lips tracing over the upper swell of each breast before she grew bolder. While the left breast remained under the care of her hand, she set to work on the right, her tongue first circling around the nipple swiftly as a test before her mouth closed gently around the hardened nub of flesh. She stilled briefly in surprise at the guttural sound that tore out of his throat, then smiled and refocused. Her lips massaged his nipple with care before she brought her tongue back into play, running over and around the nipple until she could feel his chest heaving against her.

She could also feel that *something* pressing more insistently up against her, but she ignored it. She had a task to do; the things she would need to know could come later. With that in mind, only the barest flicker of anxiousness in her stomach, she moved on to the left breast, warming the right by replacing her mouth with her hand. He shuddered and murmured something nonsensical, his hands having since moved back into her hair, his fingers distractedly fingering the strands as she lavished her attentions on his other breast.

She pulled back with a certain amount of reluctance---she was enjoying the way he arched and sighed under her touch more than she had expected---and lifted her head. A muffled sound of surprise escaped her when his lips fastened over hers, kissing her harder than he ever had. She quickly melted into the insistent kiss, her hands tangling in his hair as his tongue stroked and battled hers. She was so preoccupied by the kiss that she forgot about her previous concerns, until she felt him shift beneath her, his pelvis pressing against hers. Her eyes flew open, and she listened to the harsh sound of him breathing in her ear as he pulled back from the kiss.

"What is that?" she whispered hesitantly, her hands falling to rest on his shoulders.

He seemed to consider in silence for a moment, his breath calming slightly as she waited for his answer.

"The part of me that makes me most different from you," he said finally, and she fought against the thrill of fear that tingled down her spine.

"Would you…show me?" she asked, her voice hesitant and unsure.

"Yes," he said, though the sound was somewhat choked.

"Then…would you turn on the lights?" Her voice grew quiet with determination.

"Yes." A breathless reply, enough to make her shiver, this time with definite anticipation.

She slid off of him and waited while he rolled off the bed. She blinked into the light that suddenly flooded the room, for a moment blinded. As her vision cleared, she saw him standing before her, his back turned to her, his pajama bottoms in a pool at his feet.

The back view of him was entirely unremarkable---nothing screamed "different" to her, at least in the few cursory glances she swept over his frame. His back was muscular, as she had expected; she was fully aware of his physical condition. His waist tapered into a familiar hourglass shape, and his legs were slender. From this angle, he looked to her just the same as any other woman she had seen naked.

"Turn around," she said, her voice hardly a whisper. Anticipation and an undeniable, if mild, feeling of dread left her breathless.

He seemed to hesitate briefly before he finally turned. Her eyes met his for a moment before she lowered her gaze, sweeping the length of his body.

After taking a moment to really take in what she was seeing, her reaction was blunt, and, she realized later, rather crass.

"It’s true!" she blurted, a hand lifting to cover her mouth. "Men do have tubes between their legs!"

She wasn’t sure what his immediate reaction to her outburst was, because she couldn’t tear her eyes away from…it. But she did know that she hadn’t expected his eventual, loud burst of laughter. Her eyes lifted from the sight morbid fascination dictated she should keep staring at, and sought his face. The moment she saw the way he was laughing, his eyes closed and his body shaking with genuine mirth as he chuckled helplessly, she adopted a look of perplexity and a touch of embarrassment.

"I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to say that," she said quietly, blushing. "It was just the first thing that came to mind. I had heard the others talk about it…but I wasn’t expecting…"

She stopped, realizing she was only digging herself deeper into the hole, and with her ears burning bright red, she settled into a somewhat mortified silence.

"It’s all right," he said through his laughter, and she watched as he sat down on the edge of the bed. His eyes finally opened and regarded her kindly. "I just wasn’t expecting that particular reaction."

She flinched slightly, then relaxed when she felt his hand slide into hers, once again entwining her fingers with his in a gesture of comfort.

"I was just…surprised," she said, and winced at how silly it sounded. She was still blushing as he gave her a reassuring smile.

"If it’s any consolation, I was equally surprised by what I felt last night," he said softly, his eyes flickering suggestively downwards. Her blush spread, heating her ears again. "We are more different than I had realized."

The way he was looking at her, his eyes sweeping the length of her torso, finally served to remind her that this was the first time he had seen her naked. Just as he had exposed himself before her, she too was now exposed by the light. Her cheeks flushed further as she reflexively crossed her arms over her chest.

"Don’t," he said quietly, his eyes meeting hers even as his hand reached out to ease her arms away. "Let me look at you."

She turned her eyes toward the wall, swallowing back her embarrassment as he looked at her, visually retracing the path his hands and mouth had taken on her body the night before. She stiffened out of surprise when she first felt him leaning towards her, then relaxed easily into his kiss, letting him coax her into a mellower state.

Just as before, she started to lose herself in the kiss, forgetting all of the inhibitions that kept her back when her mind was clearer. She found herself leaning into him, her hands reaching for him…

She stopped again, her eyes flying open, then quickly pulled back her hand. She’d touched it! By accident, she’d touched it. Her cheeks bled bright red again when she saw the slight smile at his lips, the sparkle in his eyes.

"Is it that frightening?" he asked, his tone lightly teasing. "It doesn’t bite."

Ignoring her own intense blush, pushing down her embarrassment, she kept her eyes firmly rooted to the shaft between his legs. Now that he was kneeling in front of her, he seemed cool and confident, as though having nothing more to hide had somehow relieved him of his awkwardness. She realized she wouldn’t feel the same until she went ahead and asked.

"What is it for?" There, a blunt and awkward question, but it *was* the question at the forefront of her mind.

"It’s really not that different from you, I think," he said, shrugging slightly. "When we have sex, this is the place where we feel the most pleasure."

As he spoke, he lightly cupped the shaft in his hand, and her eyes widened against her will as she watched. It was the most incredible shade of reddish purple…it looked terribly painful.

"It seems so…" She cut herself off, biting her tongue. She had already embarrassed herself enough; she didn’t want to stick her foot any further down her throat.

"So…? Go ahead, you can say what you’re thinking," he said, sounding vaguely amused.

"…Extraneous," she said, her voice small. She listened as he chuckled again.

"Perhaps it is," he agreed with a smile, his eyes twinkling. "But this is how we are."

She swallowed, determined to proceed despite her hesitance.

"May I…touch it?" she asked, looking into his eyes as she attempted to gauge his reaction. She watched as something heated flickered briefly across his eyes.

"Of course," he breathed, holding her gaze, his own intense.

With another swallow, she gathered her courage and shifted forward until they knelt facing each other, their knees just barely touching. Finally, she lowered her gaze, intent on watching and learning from her motions.

She took his gesture of a few moments before as initiative, and her first move was to lightly cup her hand underneath the warm shaft, until the head rested lightly in her palm. She nearly drew back when the shaft twitched against her skin, but with a quick breath, she held her ground. Her curious eyes took in every inch of the flesh in her hand, nervousness quickly giving way to a hesitant fascination as she watched it seemingly pulse in her gentle grip. Encouraged by the way he lightly ran a hand through her hair, not seeming bothered by her awkward motions, she decided to proceed with her exploration.

She felt him tremble as her fingertips traced a light path over the top of the shaft, then moved along the underside. She closed her fingers in a light circle around the base and dragged her hand slowly to the tip, and her fascination overtook her nervousness as the shaft grew slightly in her hand, swelling in both length and width.

"What’s happening?" she murmured absently, busy stroking her fingertips over the heated flesh and familiarizing herself with the feel of the skin against her hand.

"When we’re aroused, it fills with blood," he said, sounding similarly distracted, though his hand continued to calmly stroke through her hair, his other hand lightly resting on her shoulder.

"Hmm…" If she thought about it, this new information was also reminiscent of her own body’s reactions to arousal. It just seemed that men experienced the ‘blood rush’ to a greater degree.

She bent, turning her attention to the sizable sack of flesh hanging just beneath the shaft. With little of her previous reluctance---once she committed to something, she always moved ahead with it confidently---she cupped it in her hand, testing the weight and feel of it against her palm. With her thumb running over the soft flesh, she quickly ascertained that the skin actually covered two separate entities. The whole of it just barely fit in the palm of her hand. She found herself thinking once again that surely this was simply inefficient…not to mention, how did they *walk* with these things between their legs?

She glanced up when she heard the sound of him chuckling softly.

"What’s funny?"

"Your face," he answered simply, his voice somewhat breathless. His eyes sparkled with mirth. "You look so perplexed."

She felt herself blush slightly.

"Because it’s so different from anything I could have expected," she mumbled, pulling her hand back slightly until just her fingertips rested on him. "Should I stop?"

"No, you don’t have to stop," he said, and then he tilted his head as he seemed to reconsider his words. "Although you may if you wish."

"I’m not sure what to do," she confessed, glancing downwards again. "Could you show me…? What a man would do. It seemed to work well enough for you last night…"

She trailed off, looking back at him as she waited for an answer. He smiled at her so warmly that she couldn’t help but smile slightly in return, and she closed her eyes, sighing imperceptibly in relief as his mouth closed over hers. His kiss so easily drew her thoughts away from nervousness or embarrassment or shame…she felt her entire body start to relax into the pleasure she felt from the movement of his mouth against hers.

As they kissed, she felt him take her hand, and she tried to remain relaxed as he guided her fingers to once again close gently around his length. She followed his motions as he tugged lightly on her hand. She got the idea quickly enough and continued the slow drag of her hand up to the tip of the shaft, then under his guidance started back down. After another couple of passes with his help, he dropped his hand away, and she continued to slowly pump her hand up and down on her own. By this time he’d pulled away from the kiss and she was watching as he closed his eyes, his breathing speeding up.

While her hand continued its work, he grasped her other hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing lightly. She took this as a sign of encouragement, and quickened her pace. Her eyes widened slightly as she again felt the length in her hand growing, filling out, tensing and twitching. As though he sensed her reaction, he opened his eyes and smiled at her again, though his smile seemed somewhat strained. His eyes were as encouraging as the light squeeze of his fingers against hers, so she kept to her pace, holding his gaze as she moved her hand up and down the shaft. She watched as his eyes started to haze over, listened as his breathing grew more and more ragged, and finally felt him start to lift towards her with each stroke of her hand, his hips pumping up to meet her.

"This is good?" All the signs were telling her it was---he was reacting much the same she was used to, the way anyone she had ever known started to act the closer they were drawn to release---but she had to be sure.

"Very good," he agreed breathlessly, his eyes closed again. She blinked, then smirked a bit, somehow pleased by the loss of control she was witnessing, as he grunted lightly and smacked his free hand back against the bed, holding himself steady as his hips continued their erratic movements to meet her hand.

On a whim, she pressed a little closer to him, trapping their joined hands between them as she leaned in, her mouth again seeking his sensitive pulse point. He shivered and let go of her hand, instead moving his arm to encircle her, pulling her even closer, their breasts pressed flush against each other. She caught her breath at the sensation of his hot skin against hers, and let the breath out in a fast stream when his other hand came up to touch the small of her back, guiding her forward. Faster than she knew what was happening, she found herself straddling his thigh, the heat of her core pressed to his skin. His arms were around her, holding her as close as he could while leaving her hand unhampered to continue its steady strokes.

She wrapped her free arm around his neck, steadying herself as she sped her pace slightly. She listened to him groan, his forehead dropping to rest on her shoulder and his hands tightening their grip on her. Now she was sure he was close, and she was determined to bring him as much pleasure as he had brought her that night. She tightened her grip ever so slightly, increasing the friction of her palm and fingers against him, and she listened as his breathing became even more erratic, felt as he started to stiffen against her.

"Meia." The slightest whisper against her neck, but she felt it through to her bones, especially when it was accompanied by a low moan as, in the next instant, everything came to a head. She felt him go still against her for a moment before he started to tremble, and she blinked in shock as a warm, thick liquid burst out of the tip of the shaft, bathing her hand, stomach and thighs with sticky wetness. She slowed the movement of her hand and finally stilled when the last of the ejaculation finished and he relaxed against her. She kept the shaft cupped in her hand, unsure what to do next, and watched in fascination as it deflated, going flaccid in her palm.

She listened to him trying to catch his breath as she finally drew her hand away and lifted it to stare at the liquid coating her fingers.

"What is this?" she asked, and before she received an answer---he still seemed unable to speak---she lifted her pointer finger to her mouth. She quickly drew it back, making a face. "It’s bitter."

When he spoke, his voice was husky.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I should have warned you before I… In any case, as I’m sure you figured, this is what we produce when we orgasm."

"So you do orgasm, just like us?" she said, even as she tried to discreetly brush off some of the sticky white material onto her thigh. "I thought that’s what that was."

"It seems we do," he agreed, and she felt him clasp her hand briefly before his hands moved to her hips and carefully lifted her away. She allowed it, letting him deposit her back on the bed, where she knelt and waited while he got up. He swayed unsteadily at first, and she lifted a hand, ready to offer him help, but he quickly regained his equilibrium. She waited as he disappeared into the bathroom. He reappeared a moment later with a washcloth.

"Lie down a minute," he urged her, and she did as asked, watching as he again sat at the edge of the bed. She shivered when she first felt the warm cloth against her belly. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation as he gently cleaned her belly and thighs, then moved on to her hand. After he’d carefully washed each finger, she felt him curl his hand under her knee, tickling her as he urged her knee upwards, until her leg was bent. She shuddered deeply when she first felt the rapidly cooling cloth gently probing at her most sensitive area. She could feel his eyes on her, curious as he got his first good look at the part of her he’d been so intimate with in the dark.

She nearly cried out, her eyes snapping open in shock, when she felt his tongue quickly swipe across her opening. She’d felt the washcloth leave her, but she’d had no idea he intended any further action.

"You’re aroused, aren’t you?" he murmured, and she fought a groan as his nose nuzzled lightly against the blue curls between her thighs.

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth.

"Good…" he said softly. "Because I wanted to try this…"

This time the groan escaped her despite her efforts to contain it, as his hands curled under her knees and lifted each knee until she was open for him. His tongue darted out again, this time making a broader pass over her sex, and she shuddered at the sensation.

He was as conscientious at his new task as he always was in his duty, his tongue exploring her entirely and trying different strokes. He seemed to pause every time she trembled hard and gripped the bedclothes, as though noting the strength of her reactions to various techniques. She quivered helplessly when he finally caught onto what she liked best, his tongue moving gradually back and forth from dipping somewhat aggressively into her vagina to encircling and flicking over her clitoris. He found a rhythm surprisingly quickly after that, moving into a relatively steady pattern of licking and suckling that soon had her whimpering in the back of her throat. Her hands tangled in his hair, encouraging him, and when she came, she was sure she gripped him a little too tightly, but she couldn’t help herself…everything spiraled away from her in that instant, her orgasm substantially more powerful than the one before.

She was still shaking uncontrollably as she started to come down from the high, and when she finally regained awareness, she realized that he was lying beside her, cradling her against him. With a soft sound of wordless pleasure, she turned her body and cuddled up to him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. They held each other in silence for some time before the silence was finally broken by a softly uttered curse.

"Mm?" Even as she opened her eyes, about to ask him what was wrong, he withdrew his embrace and sat up, cursing once again before he slid off the bed. "What is it?"

"The time," he answered even as he disappeared into the bathroom again.

She blinked, then quickly turned over. Shit! It was well over an hour after both of them were supposed to begin their daily shifts. She scrambled to her feet and, totally forgetting any pretense at modesty, she followed him into the washroom. He was just starting a shower when she came in, his hand under the spray gauging the temperature. He glanced back at her, his free hand brushing several wayward strands of silver away from his face.

"You’ll have to join me," he said, gesturing towards the shower with his chin.

"I have every intention of doing so," she assured him, and when he lifted an eyebrow and smirked, she smiled back at him.

Considering the level of distraction that had made them late---/Gods/, she thought to herself, /I practically forgot that time *existed*/---they conducted the shower with surprising efficiency. They stood together under the spray, but they only touched to pass each other shampoo and soap, and they were finished in what she was sure was record time. After rubbing herself down quickly with a towel, she darted back out into the main room, scrambling for the pile of her clothing still in a rumpled mess on the floor.

She was most of the way into her uniform, her fingers moving quickly, when she felt BC touch her shoulder lightly.

"Meia," he said softly, and she turned to him expectantly, an eyebrow lifting. She had already switched gears entirely, her mind in business mode, so when he smiled at her and bent to give her a light peck on the mouth, she wasn’t prepared.

"Thank you for this," he said, his eyes bright as they looked into hers. She watched as he pulled away and moved towards the door, having already finished with his clothes and hair, though of course he didn’t quite look as impeccable as usual. She didn’t get a chance to reply to him before he was gone, leaving her alone in his quarters. It wasn’t until he was gone that she finally realized that the smell lingering in her nostrils was the scent of *them*---of a night spent together, of sex and sweat. Despite the shower, she was still aware of the smell of him on her, and even as she finished doing up her uniform and headed out towards the docking bay, she was blushing and smiling to herself.

/No…thank you, BC./

*****

THE END

FIC: [Vandread] 'Trust' 1/2 (BC/Meia, NC-17)

Mon, 27 Jun 2005 10:20:15 GMT

This is the first sequel to 'Himegoto', and the first entry for 30_lemons.

Fandom: Vandread (anime)
Date Finished: June 27th, 2005
Classification: Angst, WAFF, Romance, PWP
Pairing: BC/Meia
Rating: NC-17
Note: Direct sequel to ‘Himegoto’. Response to challenge #1 (Anonymity, or, "Taken by the Faceless Stranger") in the 30_lemons community.

Trust
By Elsewhere
elsewherecw@shaw.ca

Disclaimer: The universe and characters aren’t mine. How shocking, eh?

Distribution: If you want this story for any page other than the ones I’ve sent it to, please ask me first, so I know where it goes.

Spoilers: For the entire series, essentially, but mostly Second Stage and Gekitouhen. If you haven’t seen the entire series, I advise you not to read this.

Series Warnings: For the most part this focuses on a heterosexual romance, but given that this is Vandread, there are frequent references to yuri, and even the occasional mention of yaoi.

WARNING: BC is a man with breasts and a feminine figure. If you're squicked by extreme androgyny, this is definitely not the fic for you. Also, of course, het sex is a totally new experience to both characters here, so this is awkward sex to the max. ;P

Summary: BC and Meia explore their new relationship---in the bedroom.

Part One:

*****

She met him in the corridor outside his quarters, leaning casually against the wall next to his door. She listened to the sound of his footsteps slowing, then stopping, close enough that if she reached out, she knew she could touch him.

"Welcome back," she said, lifting her head and offering him a small smile. She knew that everything she was feeling was nakedly displayed in her eyes, and she had reached the point where she didn’t mind.

"Meia," he said softly, smiling back at her. "Did you hear the news?"

"Yes. The Nirvana is to be used as a testing ground while women and men try to adjust to one another again," she said, her smile fading into an expression of professional detachment. "It’s going to get busy around here."

"Agreed," he said, suddenly sounding exhausted.

She stepped away from the door.

"I’m sorry, am I keeping you?" she said, unable to help the mild blush that heated her cheeks. "I’m sure you’re tired."

"Not too tired to talk to you, Meia," he replied gently, and she felt herself blushing harder as she watched him open the door to his quarters and gesture her inside. "Please, come in…just for a while."

She did as asked, ignoring the way her heart was suddenly pounding hard against her ribcage.

"Please, sit," BC said quietly, sounding mildly preoccupied as he disappeared into the corner where he kept his mini-fridge. "What can I offer you, Meia?"

"Anything," she said, a bit huskily.

She watched him stiffen, his hand tightening slightly on the door of the fridge. "I meant to drink."

"…So did I," she said, blushing fiercely.

He cleared his throat, and she turned away, wallowing in her moment of embarrassment as she listened to him moving around the room. After a moment he sat down in the chair across from her, setting a drink on the table in front of her. Still keeping her eyes turned away, she lifted the glass and took a sip, instantly recognizing the sweet-bitter taste of cold tea.

She coughed quietly.

"I understand that Duero, Bart and Hibiki, along with Dita, are going back to Talark to recruit subjects for this…experiment," she said conversationally, trying to force her voice not to sound so breathy. Gods, she was nervous. She had decided to go ahead with this, but she was so incredibly nervous. Her only comfort was the knowledge that she wasn’t the only one afraid.

This thought finally gave her the courage to look back towards him, only to stop and hold her breath when their eyes met. She watched as a slow blush crossed his cheeks.

"Yes, that’s the plan," he agreed, his voice a bit unsteady. Yes, she thought, forcing herself to calm. This was just as hard for him as it was for her.

"I take it you won’t be joining them?" she asked, with all the calm she had managed to muster. She didn’t want to say it aloud, but she was worried. Afraid that she had made her decision just in time to lose him.

"No," he said, giving her a brief smile. "I have my duties here to attend to."

She swallowed back her initial relief.

"And…what’s going to happen to you?" she said, her voice falling to a whisper.

He was quiet for a few seconds, sipping on his tea, before he answered.

"Following Grandma and Grandpa’s meeting of earlier today, I have been pardoned of the charges of desertion," he said, and she watched as an ironic smile twisted his lips. "In exchange for this allowance, all records of my presence in the Talark military have been purged. To the world of men, I no longer exist."

"…I’m sorry," she said quietly, her eyes tracing the lines of his face, trying to discern his reaction to his sentence.

His smile softened.

"For what?" He shook his head. "It doesn’t matter. I have not called Talark my home for quite some time. Although I was a stranger amongst you, I came to think of myself as one of you."

"You were never a stranger," she said softly. "Even when you were gone, we all knew you’d come back. We all wanted you to come back."

She watched as he lowered his eyes, staring into his tea, moved by her words.

"Thank you," he said finally, his voice choked.

She smiled, and felt herself blush again as she asked the next obvious question.

"Does that mean you’ll…stay like this?" When he glanced up at her, she gestured as politely as she could towards him, her eyes flickering briefly over his breasts. He smiled when he realized what she meant.

"I’m comfortable this way," he said, an eyebrow lifting as he swallowed the last of his tea. "As strange as that may seem."

"Someday…" she said, and she waited until she had his attention before she continued, "…you’ll have to tell me about how you came to be in this situation."

He paused, something dark briefly flickering across his eyes, then said, "Yes…someday."

They sat in silence for several moments, while she finished her tea and he watched her. His gaze was so intent that she could feel her ears turning red.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he asked, his voice raspy and soft.

"Yes," she said without hesitation, and then she smiled, meeting his eyes. "I think it’s unavoidable."

"Point taken," he said, lips twisting in a slight grin. The expression faded into one of obvious nervousness as he watched her get to her feet. She touched his shoulder, the barest beckoning gesture, and he responded, standing. He stood before her, towered over her, and she stayed stock still, her eyes focused on his collarbone. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted him to touch her. But at the same time, she…

She shuddered, suddenly overcome with a wild fear. Almost without thought, she turned and started for the door, pulling up short when she felt his hand catch hers, warm and solid. She could hear her ragged breath resounding through the silence in his room. *His room.*

"Meia…" he murmured, and she stiffened, breath growing increasingly uneven as she felt him move to stand behind her. His hands curled around her upper arms, pulling her gently back against him.

"Yes?" she whispered, hoping that he couldn’t hear the uncertainty in her voice.

"Meia…stay with me tonight." His voice was soft, hesitant, his touch even more so. She felt herself stiffen again, and she had to force herself to breathe.

"…All right," she said finally, her voice hoarse. She stood still as he stepped back, away from her, giving her her space again. Although it was what she had wanted---to be given space to breathe, to think---she found herself leaning back towards where he’d been, seeking his warmth.

"I meant to talk," he said quietly, sounding mildly embarrassed. "Just for a while."

"All right," she said again, closing her eyes. Gods… "But, will you…turn off the lights?"

"…All right." Little more than a whisper, and she stood still, waiting, until she was abruptly enveloped in darkness. Still she remained where she was, waiting. After a time, she heard the sound of cloth rustling and metal clinking, and his footsteps as he moved around the room. She felt something deep within her clench when she heard the sound of weight being lowered onto a bed. Wordlessly, he extended her an invitation, his hand brushing against hers gently.

Swallowing down her fear, she straightened and undid her jacket, taking it off.

"Do you…have something I could wear?" she asked, shyly. She heard him moving around again, and then a bundle of fabric was pushed into her hands. "Hold it for a moment, please?"

Still speechless, he took the clothes back from her, and she listened to the soft sound of his breathing as she slid out of her clothes. Her hand brushed his, her heartbeat racing at even that minimal contact, and she took the nightclothes from him. In seconds she was standing in a vastly overlarge pair of his loose, silky pajamas, her nostrils filled with the gentle, spicy scent of him. She bent to roll up the bottoms of the trousers, then, feeling her way in the dark, she climbed up onto the bed with him, stopping when she bumped against his knee with her own.

Several minutes passed in silence, the only sound that of their breathing, each unsteady. The silence and the dark grew so deep, so thick, that she felt her chest tightening, the familiar panic rising up in her. Perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea to do this in the dark…but she hadn’t expected to be alone.

"Please, I can’t stand this," she breathed, a desperate rush of words. She heard him catch his breath.

"What do you need?" he asked, and she almost sighed in relief when she felt his fingertips against her wrist.

"Talk to me. Touch me. Just for a while," she answered breathlessly, and again she heard him catch his breath, then a soft, unintelligible murmur before, suddenly, his hands were cupping her cheeks. As his fingertips explored her cheekbones, she sighed, long and slow, and lifted her hands to take off her head ornament. She carefully dropped it over the side of the bed, onto where she thought her clothes had fallen. There. Now she could proceed without the weight of admonition.

Then his hands were in her hair, his lips were against her jawbone, and for a time she was aware of little else. Her own hands were grasping helplessly against him, fingers questing over his chest as he explored her face with his mouth, his hands running soothingly through her hair. His lips reached hers, and she felt an explosion of warmth spread through her body as he gently worked her lips apart and pressed his tongue into her mouth, exploring the hidden recesses within. She moaned against him, her hands gripping the cloth of his shirt as he kissed her, the movements of his tongue sending spikes of heat down her spine to settle low in her abdomen. Closing her eyes, she curled her fingers through his hair, scratching her nails lightly against his scalp. She let out a startled yelp when she felt his hands suddenly close over her hips, lifting her and pulling her over to straddle his lap. She had no choice but to relax against him as his lips quested down her neck, as his hands gently kneaded her back, as their breasts pressed hard against each other.

She could happily have remained that way for as long as possible, cradled in his lap with his hands and lips and tongue warming her skin, her own hands clasping him as close as she dared…but then she felt it, for the first time. Something unexpected, the feeling of something foreign---and hot, and hard---pressed against the inside of her thigh. Her eyes snapped open, awareness flooding through her as she stiffened against him.

"Meia?" His voice was uncertain, his breath warmly fanning over her ear.

"What is that?" she said, unable to help the note of fear in her voice.

She felt him freeze against her. His arms went slack around her, and she quickly took the opportunity to back away, scrambling a few feet across the bed.

"I’m sorry, Meia. I shouldn’t have…" he began, only to stop when she said a soft, "No. It’s all right."

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she lowered herself to her side, curling up and hugging herself tightly.

"I’m the one who should be sorry," she murmured, keeping her eyes closed against the mixture of unpleasant emotions---fear, guilt, disgust, self-directed anger---roiling in her stomach, combined with the heated remainder of her desire. "Asking you to do this in the dark…trying to maintain anonymity in the hope of ignoring the truth…"

She heard him let out a shaky breath.

"Like this, I can keep pretending that this is familiar. That this is normal," Meia muttered, swallowing back her shame as she spoke. "But in reality, it’s still there…it’s automatic. This…fear. This revulsion."

She stiffened, then forced herself to relax, when she felt his hand stroke gently through her hair.

"I know the feeling," he said, a sound of bitter irony in his voice. "I never thought I would be in this situation. All this time I’ve lived amongst you…and I never thought this would happen. It is automatic, Meia. We’ve never known anything else. Men and women…do not belong together."

"And yet…we’re trying to change that," Meia said quietly, keeping her eyes tightly shut. "So why am I still so afraid? Why does this automatic feeling of disgust persist?"

"Because it’s all we’ve ever known," he repeated, his hand gentle in her hair. She could feel the warmth of his touch tingling down her spine. His tenderness provided a push against the quivering feeling of revulsion and shame that threatened to overwhelm her. "I’m struggling with the same feelings, Meia."

"…I’m afraid, BC." There, she had said it. Her voice was unsteady, unsure, but she had said it.

"So am I," he whispered, sounding almost desperate. "Oh, Meia…so am I."

"But…I want this," she said, more to herself than to him. She felt the words resonate in her mind. It was true…she did want him, more than she would have ever believed possible. "I do want this. I will overcome this."

Silence for a moment, and then her voice again, hesitant and breathy.

"Will you…let me hear your real voice?" she asked, squeezing her eyes tightly shut even in the darkness. She was afraid he would say yes, and so afraid he would say no.

"Meia…" he sounded surprised, and reluctant.

"I think it will help. It will help it sink in…" she said, and then with a rough sigh she sat up, letting his hand slide away from her. Her voice was rough, almost tired. "Because…you still smell like a woman, still feel like a woman."

"…All right." He still sounded hesitant, but less so. She listened in silence, unable to hear whatever it was he did to negate the altering effect on his voice.

"Say something," she urged him, when he remained silent. She had turned towards him, waiting for him.

"What should I say, Meia?" he asked, and she shivered, a thrill of fear moving down her spine when she heard that voice. This voice was unmistakably male. The rhythm of it was familiar and reassuring; it was obviously BC’s voice. But the sound of it, the depth of it…again she was aware of the brief illusion of sharing the room with a stranger, but then she felt BC’s hand against hers again, and she felt relief settle into her bones.

"Say anything…" she murmured, leaning towards him, until she felt his breath against her forehead.

"I’m…afraid of what you’ll think of me, Meia," he said softly, that now-familiar unsteadiness in his voice. Such a different voice, and yet the same. She pressed a little closer, until his lips were against her skin.

"I’m afraid too," she said softly. "But we’ll never get anywhere if we let ourselves succumb to fear."

She felt his breath puff out against her skin, and then his hands encircling her arms again.

"Touch me," she whispered, her eyes wide open now. "I promise I won’t pull away again."

She listened as he let out a soft sound, murmuring something incomprehensible against her forehead as his hands tightened on her arms. His fingers loosened and stroked slowly up her arms until his hands were again cupping her face, and then she was swallowed once more by the heat of his mouth. She felt heat radiate through her body as his lips massaged hers, encouraging her to open her mouth. At least this was familiar; they held this in common. She took comfort in this knowledge, the sureness of the kiss.

Even as he seemed to relax into the kiss, his motions against her slow and languid as his hands rubbed her back and tangled in her hair, she could feel herself tightening, her body winding like a spring. All this did was make her want more. If it was impossible, if it was forbidden…then she wanted to taste the forbidden fruit. He made a muffled sound of surprise against her mouth as she suddenly curled her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him deeper into the kiss. He groaned into her mouth as she moved forward, pulling herself back into his lap. Their breasts brushed together, and she listened as he gasped, pulling back from the kiss.

"Meia, no…wait," he said breathlessly, and she again shuddered at the sound of his voice. His arms tightened around her, and the shivering stopped.

"What’s wrong?" she said, trying to catch her own breath.

"I don’t want to take this too quickly," he said, and she trembled when she felt his hands smoothing over her hips. His touch was so gentle…so unbearably gentle. "I don’t want to frighten you again."

"I want you to touch me," she returned, and she felt his breath puff out against her cheek as she leaned in and kissed her way up his jaw line. He was silent for a moment, holding her gently, before he finally grasped her hips and lifted her out of his lap. She knelt in front of him, her hands on his shoulders, waiting for his answer.

"Then tell me…show me what a woman would do," he said softly. She shuddered deeply again, this time with the heat of the desire that rushed to pool in her belly. His hands were so hot against her skin; his skin was so soft beneath her touch. And he was, as always, so considerate…he wanted to please her. She knew he wanted to show her the way he felt, without hurting or scaring her, and the very thought of it made her shiver.

Swallowing down the hard pang of nervousness that made her heart pound fiercely, she took his hands and gently pushed them away. She could hear him breathing, waiting for her, as she tugged off the loose pajama shirt she was wearing and tossed it aside. Her breath heaved in her chest as she reached out for him again. Their fingers intertwined briefly, seeking solid purchase, before she took his hands and pressed them over her breasts. She heard his breath hitch in his throat, and fought not to groan at the sublime sensation of heat on her goose-pimpled flesh.

Her eyes were wide open, staring into the dark, as his hands started to move, his fingertips slowly exploring her. She shivered with each pass his fingertips made over the swell of her breasts, under their soft weight, and over the hard tips of her nipples. She made small noises of encouragement when he rolled her nipples beneath his thumbs, and let out a long, shaky breath when he finally bent his head and sucked the tip of one aching breast into his mouth. He suckled for a moment in silence, and she fought to breathe as the heat of his mouth spiraled down her spine, making her restless. Her hands were in his hair, holding tightly as she felt herself gradually losing touch with reality.

He pulled back briefly, and she gasped at the chill that fell over her breast, wet and exposed. She mumbled her pleasure when his hand took the place of his mouth, returning warmth to her skin.

"This isn’t so different," he remarked, his own voice breathless and somewhat unsure. "We also do this."

"Don’t stop," she whispered, and she heard him chuckle softly as he bent towards her again. She caught her breath as his lips dragged along the underside of her breast, his hand still massaging the other.

"Definitely not so different…" he murmured, and then his mouth was on her again, sucking and gently pulling, and for a few minutes she was aware of nothing else. Her hands were clenched tightly in his hair, the desperation in her touch obvious. It had been so long since she’d felt anything like this…had she ever felt anything quite like this? All of her past experience was only of the most casual kind. This felt so much more important…she was risking so much more for this.

A whimper rose unbidden in her throat as he gently lowered her to her back, pressing her back against the bed. She could feel him hovering over her as his mouth continued its ministrations, even as one of his hands ran slowly down her abdomen, massaging muscles that tightened and loosened with lingering fear and desire. She sighed soundlessly when his mouth finally pulled away, only to feel him kissing his way down the path his hand had taken, his mouth exploring her skin while his hands smoothed over her sides. She drew in a quick breath when she felt his fingers slide beneath the hem of her pants.

"May I?" he asked, his voice taut with desire. The sound of that voice, which had before made her thrum with fright, now made her shiver with anticipation.

"Please," she whispered, and as he tugged at the loose fabric, she lifted her hips to aid him. He followed this by pulling off her panties. She listened as he tossed the cloth aside, and she closed her eyes, biting back a groan as she lifted her knees. She knew he couldn’t see her, but nonetheless her automatic response was to open her legs for him, a gesture of submission she realized she’d never shown anyone else in her life.

"Tell me what to do, Meia." It was barely more than a whisper; he sounded vaguely frantic, but frightened at the same time.

"Give me your hand," she answered, her own voice quaking even as her body trembled. She felt his hand press against hers, and she swallowed back her trepidation before she guided his hand over her stomach and down to the apex of her thighs. She heard him gasp, felt him stiffen where he lay next to her, as his fingers dipped into the moisture between her legs. She kept her hand wrapped around his, encouraging him as he explored, his fingers gently parting the folds of her flesh. Her breath hitched in her throat with every touch, and she could hear his breath fast and hard against her cheek.

"So this is what a woman is like…" he said softly, wonder and curiosity evident in his tone. She slowly let her hand drop to the side as his touch grew bolder, his fingers intent on discovering her secrets. She gasped when his fingers first brushed over her opening, then pressed ever so slightly inside. She heard him gasp with her.

"This…is very different," he said, and she shivered, arching her back against the bed, when he pushed deeper, his finger questing inside. A groan tore from her throat as her vagina squeezed down on his finger, accepting him eagerly.

She heard him swallow, felt him trembling beside her.

"Very different…" he said, and then she felt his lips against her temple, seeking reassurance. "Is this right?"

"Yes…please, don’t stop." Her voice was desperate; it surprised her to hear herself. She wasn’t sure when she had last heard herself like this…if she’d ever heard herself like this. Her hand curled around his wrist again, encouraging him as his finger quested deeper, probing at her walls until she was shuddering helplessly. "Please…BC…"

He kissed her cheek distractedly, obviously preoccupied with his task.

"We do something like this…but here," he murmured, and as he spoke, he pulled his finger out of her---she gasped---and rubbed his fingertips gently against her other opening. Her eyes opened, her breath catching in surprise. As though he sensed her startled reaction, he stopped, moving his hand back upwards and continuing his exploration of her.

"We do that sometimes too…" she murmured, and then she paused, not sure how to explain.

"But for you, the pleasure is here?" he asked, as his finger again pressed within her.

"Yes…" she groaned, arching her hips into his touch. "And…" She took his hand, curled her fingers around his thumb, and guided it upwards. "…Here."

He obeyed her silent urging and, with his thumb, explored the small, hard nub of flesh she’d led him to. She caught her breath and started to tremble so badly it ached. She moaned helplessly, one hand gripping his arm and the other against his chest, as he continued his actions.

"This is good?" he murmured against her temple, and she nodded, her eyes tightly closed now as she felt the long-denied sensation of release building in her body.

"Kiss me," she breathed, and she moaned her pleasure when he obeyed, bending over her and covering her mouth with his. His hand continued its steady, gentle motions as his tongue pushed past her lips and tasted her mouth. She groaned against him, rose up to meet the thrusts of his hand, helplessly wound her fingers in his hair as she felt herself coming to the threshold.

She pulled away from his mouth at the last instant, for once in her life allowing herself to let go completely, a rough cry torn from her throat as she came. She shuddered through the spasms, her eyes closed tightly, until finally she came back to herself. She struggled to catch her breath even as she felt his other hand smoothing back through her hair. The hand between her legs retreated slowly, and came to rest against one of her raised knees. His fingers were wet and slick. She shivered, then moaned softly when she felt his mouth on hers again. There was a question in his kiss, and when she pulled back, she answered him by wrapping her arms around him as best she could, trying to pull him closer.

"That was wonderful," she murmured, and she felt him relax against her, letting out a breath he’d been holding. She closed her eyes, soothed by the weight of him pressed gently over her. She only stiffened slightly when she felt it again: that foreign object, pressed against her thigh. She didn’t know what it was, but she thought she could guess as to its purpose.

"BC?" she whispered uncertainly, even as BC pulled away slowly, sitting up. Her hand followed him, still tangled in his hair, unwilling to let go. "Do you want me to…?"

"No," he said, a bit shortly, only to let out a breath and stroke his hand again through her hair. "No, not tonight, Meia…we have plenty of time."

"All right," she murmured, finally letting her hand fall away from him. She felt his hand slide away from her knee and listened in silence for a moment, wondering what he was doing.

"Delicious…" he muttered a minute later, and she blushed deeply, realizing what he must have been doing. She relaxed slowly as she felt him settle back onto the bed next to her, his hand hesitantly brushing her bare skin, asking a question. When she turned towards him and smoothed her hand over the silken material of his shirt, he pulled a bit closer to her, his arm curving over her waist.

"Thank you, Meia," he whispered, and she blinked into the darkness.

"For what?" she asked. He had been the one to pleasure her; she’d done nothing yet.

"For your trust," he answered, his voice soft, and she felt a pleasant tingle move down her spine.

"You’re…welcome," she whispered, and then she closed her eyes and kissed him gently. "Good night, BC."

"Good night, Meia."

*****

END PART ONE

FIC: [Vandread] 'Himegoto' 3/3 (BC/Meia, R)

Tue, 14 Jun 2005 23:19:59 GMT

And the third and final part of my first Vandread fic. After this, I start into the stuff for 30_lemons on LJ. ^_^

Fandom: Vandread (anime)
Date Finished: June 13th, 2005
Classification: Angst, WAFF, Romance
Pairing: BC/Meia
Rating: R
Note: Response to an opening line challenge from the quillandink livejournal community.

Himegoto
By Elsewhere
elsewherecw@shaw.ca

All other information in Part One.

Part Three:

*****

For another week or so, she kept to herself, once again sequestering herself in the dread hangar and focusing on her work as she tried to decide how best to proceed. As bold as her own thoughts were---the dreams were coming more often now, and getting more detailed---she didn’t feel bold enough to simply proposition BC. Even the thought made her voice freeze in her throat. No, she couldn’t. She had to find some more subtle way of bringing the subject up.

Of course, she had assumed that she would be the first to move, which was why she was so shocked when one day, about a week and a half after she’d last seen BC, the hangar door opened and someone walked inside. The slight limp in the steps was obvious, which meant only one person, and Meia felt herself stiffen reflexively even as she turned her head and stared out over the hull of her dread. Several metres below her, BC stood alone, arms folded over her chest and one eyebrow raised.

"Meia," BC said simply, her voice just the same as usual: cool, calm, collected. Meia swallowed hard.

"Fukuchou," she replied. "…Give me a moment."

With that said, she ducked back into her seat, allowing herself a few quick breaths before she hopped out of the dread and stepped onto the elevator. She reached floor level and stepped down, then slowly lifted her eyes to meet BC’s.

"Was there something you needed, fukuchou?" she said, trying to keep her own voice even.

"…Yes, actually," BC said, after a definite pause. "I want you to have dinner with me."

"Dinner?" Meia repeated, and she heard the slight quiver in her voice and forced herself to be steady.

"Yes. I have a few extra food coupons, and…I think we need to talk," BC said, her face expressionless though her voice finally softened slightly. "Will you join me?"

Meia swallowed again.

"Of course," she said, and then, forcing her own face to remain smooth and without expression, she gestured to the hangar door. "Shall we, then?"

"Please," BC said, and Meia wasn’t surprised when BC fell into step just behind her. BC generally made a point of bringing up the rear, probably feeling it her duty as superior officer to ensure that her crew were protected on their vulnerable side.

They reached the cafeteria and BC guided Meia to a seat in the corner, mostly secluded from the other tables bustling with typical dinnertime activity. Meia waited silently, trying to ignore the murmurs and looks that passed her way and towards BC as BC picked up two dinners from the line and brought them back to their table. She knew what they were whispering about. BC *never* came to the cafeteria, always preferring to eat by herself.

Meia blinked in surprise at the dinner that was set in front of her: a chicken Caesar salad, complete with croutons.

"Your favorite, isn’t it?" BC murmured as she took her seat across from Meia, and Meia nodded silently. When BC noticed the mildly startled look on Meia’s face, she chuckled. "I make a point of knowing the basic profile of everyone on my crew."

"I see," Meia said, hesitantly picking up her fork. She waited until BC had started eating before she began, keeping her eyes on her plate.

They ate in silence, and as the time passed, Meia felt her heart rate slow to its normal pace, the nervousness leaving her. It was just like eating with any of the others: a shared, silent companionship. But then, after their plates were cleared away and BC had placed a cup of coffee before each of them, the time finally came when the silence was broken.

"Meia," BC said quietly, after taking a slow sip of her drink, "…I’d like you to tell me what’s wrong."

"Wrong?" Meia echoed, her hands tightening slightly on her own mug.

"I really do feel you’ve been avoiding me," BC explained, her eyes searchingly questing over Meia’s face. "If anything I’ve said or done has disconcerted you, I think I should know."

Meia felt the heat in her cheeks and was suddenly extremely conscious of how many other people there were around them, talking and laughing and…listening.

"Can we talk about this somewhere more private?" she asked, pushing her mug aside. Her stomach was roiling too heavily to accept the drink.

BC looked surprised, but nodded. "If you wish." She put her own cup aside and got to her feet, and again fell into step behind Meia as the shorter woman made her way through the corridors, finally coming out into the garden. Just as she had thought, at this time of night the area was empty; they were alone. She walked towards the stream and finally stopped, standing still and waiting as BC, still limping slightly, caught up to her.

"Meia?" BC’s voice was curious, questioning.

"I…" She took a deep breath, and finally turned around, meeting BC’s eyes. She watched as BC blinked slowly, seeming surprised by whatever she saw in Meia’s eyes. "I…have been avoiding you, fukuchou. I’ve been thinking about something."

"Thinking about something?" BC repeated curiously, tilting her head. When Meia remained silent, BC finally said again, "Have I said or done something to upset you, Meia?"

"What you said before was more accurate," Meia said quietly, ignoring the way her cheeks started getting hot all over again. "You have…disconcerted me."

She watched as BC took a breath.

"I’m sorry," BC said, shaking her head slightly. "Whatever I said or did, I…"

"Please, don’t. It’s not like that," Meia said softly, finally closing her eyes. She wasn’t sure she could go on if she kept looking into BC’s eyes. Those deep, warm eyes… "I mean to say that…I’ve been thinking about you a little too much…and I…have been trying to decide what to do about it."

"Meia?" Again, that questioning tone, though BC’s voice had softened to a near-whisper. "What…?"

"We agreed to be honest with one another, didn’t we?" Meia asked, and, having finally steadied herself, she opened her eyes again. BC’s eyes were wide with confusion. "That it would be more prudent to admit our feelings, so that misunderstandings wouldn’t occur so easily."

"Yes, we did," BC agreed readily, her brow furrowing slightly. "So then, you have something to say to me, Meia?"

"Yes," Meia breathed. "I…have to tell you." She said it more to herself than to the other woman, who, finally seeming to understand, took a slow step backwards and a deep breath. Meia followed the step until she was standing right in front of BC, and before the other woman could move, Meia was standing on her toes, arms sliding around BC’s neck as she leaned towards her. In the last moment she felt a puff of warm breath against her lips, and then she was kissing her. A muffled sound of surprise escaped BC and Meia accepted it, swallowed it as her hands tightened against the fabric of BC’s top. Her eyes slid closed and she pressed more insistently, until finally she felt warm hands smooth over her shoulders, and the feeling of the mouth beneath her own yielding, letting her in.

She was only vaguely aware of the soft groan that BC let out against her mouth before the taller woman bent down and into the kiss, letting Meia rest back on the flats of her feet. BC’s hands were so hot, one clasping the back of her neck and the other against her shoulder blade as BC’s mouth opened against hers. Feeling her own blood rushing in her ears, Meia leaned up again, her hands now tangled in BC’s hair as she let her tongue sweep into the other woman’s mouth, seeking and exploring. She sighed heatedly into BC’s mouth when BC abruptly pulled her closer, and she could feel the hard points of BC’s nipples through the layers of their clothing. Unable or unwilling to resist temptation any longer, she brought her hands down BC’s chest and finally, gently closed them around the taller woman’s breasts, brushing her thumbs over BC’s hardened nipples.

And that was when it all stopped. The touch of hands on her breasts seemed to galvanize BC into sudden action; before Meia knew it, she had been shoved away. She stumbled and fought to keep her balance, finally standing awkwardly and staring in shock as BC quickly turned away, her breath uneven and hoarse. Meia took a step forward and peered around BC’s shoulder. BC’s eyes were closed, her forehead now creased with deep furrows. Her hands were fisted at her sides.

"Fukuchou…?" she whispered, a sudden rush of shame making her feel weak. Had she been wrong? "Have I…done something wro…"

"Meia." Meia stiffened, gritting her teeth, at the hard tone of BC’s voice. She watched as BC slowly straightened and turned towards her, hands still held in tight fists, eyes filled with a storm of emotion. "This…is impossible."

For a moment Meia remained silent, catching her breath, staring into BC’s eyes---into eyes that told her that she hadn’t been wrong at all. And that kiss…BC wanted this just as badly as she did. She wasn’t wrong.

"Why!?" she whispered finally, her eyes flashing with conviction. "Give me one reason why."

"Meia…" BC began, shaking her head slightly.

"I’ve thought of all the reasons!" Meia exclaimed, gesturing wildly with her hands. "And they mean nothing! Nothing!"

"Meia!"

The sudden stern tone of BC’s voice stopped Meia short, fighting to catch her breath.

"It’s impossible," BC said quietly, her eyes darkening as she looked into Meia’s eyes for several more seconds before she finally turned away. "And that’s all there is to it. I’m sorry."

With that, she left. She walked away, leaving Meia standing alone, blinking in incomprehension.

Such finality…such harsh words. Why? She had felt the passion in BC’s kiss. She had felt the warmth of BC’s hands, the way BC had pulled her close almost desperately. She had seen the need, naked and wild, in BC’s eyes, a deeper form of that horrible, cold longing she had seen there before. So, why…?

She went back to her room in the daze, even more profoundly affected by the rejection than she had ever expected to be. Of course she had kept this in mind as a possibility. But not like this…not like this. Late into the night, she sat curled up on her bed, staring at her headset where she’d put it on her bedside table. Her admonition. What had she done? What had she done to make BC so unwilling to consider her? Where had she gone wrong?

After that, she avoided BC as best she could for several weeks. She didn’t know what to say, what to do. When she did see BC, the other woman always averted her eyes, or focused on what she was doing, pretending not to notice Meia. The entire time she spent in helpless thought, trying to figure out why things had turned out the way they had.

Of course, the answer, when it came, was nothing like she would have ever expected.

*****

She could well remember the way her heart had stopped, surely along with those of everyone else on the ship, when she first heard that voice. So deep, so foreign. The voice of a man. And again, it was a man who was their savior.

As soon as the battle finished, without even thinking about it she found herself barreling towards the conference room. She burst in without announcing herself, and slammed her fists down against the table, listening to the gasps of her fellow officers as she did so.

"Okashira," she said, from behind clenched teeth. "Please…explain."

And she did. Magno spoke for several minutes, minutes that felt like hours. She said she had always known, but that she had also been aware of BC’s ultimate loyalty. Magno had given her…him…the benefit of the doubt, and obviously, BC had come through for them. They were alive now because of…him.

The word tasted like ashes on Meia’s tongue. A man. A *man*.

She listened as the others murmured to one another, digesting this new, shocking information. She listened to the slow, hard pound of her own heart. She listened as Magno gave them new orders, orders to prepare for landing on Mejale. And orders to keep on their toes, because they couldn’t be sure that Mejale would accept them gladly. All through this, Meia listened and felt her heart aching.

It took time, mainly the time spent in the cell where she and the others were left after their "trial" on Mejale, before rational thought returned to her. She realized that she had been feeling personally betrayed, when in truth, she was placing the betrayal in the wrong place. She came to realize what exactly had happened---why BC had reacted the way she---he---had. Why he had turned from her, told her it was impossible. Why he had distanced himself from her. She had told BC she’d thought of all the reasons and that they were meaningless. But she hadn’t thought at all…she’d known nothing. And she now understood what BC had been risking, even by that small attempt to get closer to Meia.

Suddenly it all made sense. Why BC remained away from the others. Why BC never used the cafeteria, or especially the hot springs. Why BC remained on the bridge, aloof from the others. It had been a mission…a set-up…and every day, BC was endangering himself by remaining amongst them. Late at night, curled up in a corner of the cell with her face hidden against her folded arms, Meia found herself fighting tears. He had been in danger amongst them---surely he must have known what they would have done to him if they’d found out, *especially* before the other men had joined the crew---and yet he had been so kind. He had shown them such compassion. He had led them well, and helped them out of many sticky situations. All that he had done for them couldn’t be denied.

It took her until they had returned to the ship, their numbers swollen by the return of the crew members they had left behind at their base, to finally regain her voice. The dreads were about to launch---she knew she had to get out there, to start the battle---but she had to speak with the boss.

Magno didn’t seem surprised to see her, or by Meia’s urgency as Meia requested a private meeting in the conference room.

"Okashira." Her voice was near-frantic. She had to get this off her chest. "About BC…I…"

"I know, Meia," Magno said with a warm smile, and Meia stopped, catching her breath. "Believe me, I know. All of us do."

Somehow, that was enough…those few words were enough. Sealing her pain inside, resigning herself to the fact that she would never see him again---never have a chance to apologize---she wove her way into the battle.

When she heard his voice again over the comm. lines---that deep voice, cadence familiar but tenor so painfully unfamiliar---she had to swallow back the intense rush of relief that flew through her body.

He was back…he’d come back.

She didn’t have time to think of anything beyond that; the battle grew heated, and there was no time to breathe, let alone think. The world narrowed down to the need to come through victorious, to ensure their safety and freedom forever. It was a long, hard battle…and by the end of it she was too tired to do anything but let herself be carried away, a smile on her face as she realized that they had succeeded. It was over.

The next time she was truly aware was several days later, when she came to in the sick bay. The beds around her were filled to capacity with the wounded and the recovering. There had been casualties, but considering the battle, the losses were few. The victory was overwhelming.

It was over.

But somehow she felt like, for her, it was just beginning…

*****

This time her hesitation was much longer as she stood before BC’s door, trying to catch her breath. She knew she had to push forward…but she couldn’t deny her fear. This was so much more than she had ever counted on. This was probably impossible, just like BC had said. But she would never forgive herself if she left things as they were.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, she lifted her hand and rang the bell.

"Who is it?" That familiar voice, back again---the one condition of BC’s re-employment, and forgiveness. As usual, BC’s tone was even and utterly professional, if a bit distracted.

"Meia." She said it as steadily as she could, and closed her eyes when she realized that she was trembling, shivering so badly that her body ached.

There was a pause, and then she heard the soft, mechanical swish of the door. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes.

BC stood silhouetted in the doorway, his hand on the jamb, the look on his face one of surprise and discomfort even as his eyes met Meia’s. The sorrow deep in those eyes was so painful… Meia felt her heart clench in her chest.

"We need to talk," she said quietly, and she watched as, slowly, BC nodded and stepped back into his quarters, letting her in. She watched as he turned away and moved to the nearest chair, sitting down quickly as though he wasn’t sure of his footing. She watched him brush his hair back from his eyes---the same hair, the same eyes, the same face---and took in his casual appearance. She had never seen him like this before, dressed only in a loose shirt and pants. The outline of breasts was still perfectly obvious through the thin fabric of the shirt.

She slowly pulled the other chair as close to him as she dared and sat down, willing herself not to break down as she looked at him, at his bowed head.

"Fukuchou…" she said quietly, and she watched as he smirked slightly and lifted his head. His eyes were closed, unwilling to meet hers.

"Please, Meia…even after all of this? Call me what you will, but don’t call me that," he said, and again she was struck by that voice…that same familiar, soothing voice, though now it was hoarse with pent-up emotion.

"…BC, then," she said softly, and she watched as he heaved a slow breath, seeming relieved by her choice of name. After that she watched him in silence for several more minutes, taking in the lines of his body and the tight expression on his face. He looked no different. His shape and proportions were those of a woman, albeit a very tall, muscular woman. His voice, though deep, was that of a woman. It was difficult to comprehend, even after having thought about it for so long. And yet, as she looked at him---at the way his silvery hair framed his face and tumbled down over his shoulders and back, at the way he tightened his lips and kept his eyes closed as he allowed her scrutiny, at his hands where they were clasped roughly against the arms of his chair---she realized that at some point, she had managed to change her thinking just enough. As incomprehensible as it seemed…she had come to recognize what he truly was.

"Will you look at me?" Her voice was soft, her question somehow hesitant and sure at the same time. She watched as his eyes slowly opened---those familiar, sorrowful green eyes---and sat still, holding her breath, as his eyes searched her face.

"Tell me what you want me to say, Meia." It was barely a request; there was little inflection of questioning in his tone.

"I want you to say whatever you want to say," she answered, firmly meeting his eyes and holding firm as his eyes seemed to look past her own, seeking within her.

For several minutes they sat in silence, staring at one another, until finally he cleared his throat and turned his head, his eyes looking towards the stars.

"I trust you understand, now," he said quietly, his voice calm. She kept her eyes on his profile, on his lips---lips that she had kissed, without knowing anything.

"What should I understand?" she asked, and when he remained silent, she said, "We had an agreement, BC."

She watched as he closed his eyes again, and dropped his head, hiding his expression behind the long curtain of his hair.

"You understand why I said what I did. Why it was impossible," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "I wasn’t rejecting you, Meia. I didn’t intend to hurt you. I was…"

He trailed off, falling into silence.

She moistened her tongue, giving herself and him a moment before she spoke.

"Did you think that this would change things?" she asked quietly, and she couldn’t help the slight smile that came to her mouth when his head snapped up, his eyes wide and shocked.

She took a breath. "Well, so did I. But now that I’m here…now that I’m looking at you…"

She fell silent, holding his eyes for a few minutes before she offered a hesitant smile.

"I think I begin to understand how Dita’s been feeling," she said softly, and she watched as he blinked and took a quick breath, staring at her. "She knew that it was wrong…that it was impossible. He was a man. But she also knew who she loved, and what did and didn’t matter. I think that I…can sympathize."

She saw the brief flash of panic in his eyes as she got to her feet and walked slowly towards him. She could hear the way his breathing sped up as she bent towards him, her hand lightly coming to rest on his shoulder. She hesitated only briefly, fighting against the hard knot that was forming in her stomach, telling her to desist, before she bent down and brushed her lips over his.

This hadn’t changed, either. His lips were just as soft, just as yielding. He tasted the same. He smelled the same. The way he hesitantly touched her arm, warm fingers caressing her flesh, was no different. She was aware of the way she was shaking, trembling even as she cautiously touched a hand to the side of his face, and brushed her fingers back through the thick softness of his hair.

She pulled back just as slowly as she had descended, her hand remaining for a moment in his hair before she carefully withdrew. His hand dropped away, but the look on his face as he stared up at her made her feel weak in the knees. It was there again: that longing, that yearning, that desperate loneliness, so heavily tinged with a deep, heavy sorrow. That look was enough to make her falter. She lowered herself slowly, kneeling in front of him and holding his gaze, letting him see as she struggled briefly, before the tears came. They rolled silently down her cheeks and dropped away. She watched as his face slowly crumpled into a look of distress, as he held his hands clasped tightly in his lap, keeping them from touching her.

"Please," she whispered, her eyes imploring him. "Please, don’t deny me again. I know it’s impossible…but the best we can do is try."

It was the first time she had acknowledged it, and certainly the first time she had vocalized it. She needed this. It had become more than curiosity, attraction or arousal. So much more. She had come to care for him so deeply, so quickly…or perhaps she had cared all along, and had never allowed herself to realize it. Either way, she had come to this point without recognizing it until it was too late. And now, impossible or not, this was happening.

She caught her breath, closed her eyes as she felt the touch of his fingertips over her cheek, his thumbs brushing away her tears. She let her breath out slowly when his lips replaced his hand, his mouth pressed gently to the curve of her cheekbone.

"Meia…why?" His voice was just as imploring as hers had been.

"I don’t know," she said, shaking her head, then stilling as she felt his forehead come to rest against hers. "I don’t know. I don’t understand this. But I know that…"

Say it, she urged herself. Say it!

"…I need this," she breathed, and she heard him utter a soft, involuntary sound as his hands ran back through her hair, his thumbs hesitantly tracing over the lines of her headset. She let her own hands come to rest against his knees, feeling him shiver slightly beneath her touch.

They remained like that for some time, eyes closed, silent and still except for the hesitant touch of fingers against hair and skin. Finally she felt him sit up, his hands leaving her, and she dropped her own from his legs as she lifted her chin and opened her eyes. He was looking down at her, the look on his face one of obvious wonder.

She cleared her throat, feeling herself start to blush under the openness of his gaze.

"I…should go," she said quietly, and she dropped her eyes as she got slowly to her feet. She stiffened slightly when she felt his fingers brush against her hand. She forced herself to relax even as a slow smile naturally softened her mouth. She met his eyes again, and nodded towards the question in them. "This isn’t over."

With that, and a last lingering touch to his hair, she left, trying to catch her breath.

It was done, then…there was no turning back. She was too far into this to pull back. She was afraid…Gods, she was afraid, desperately frightened. It was impossible, it was wrong…it was everything she had never expected to find herself involved in. But it wasn’t over.

It was only just beginning.

*****

THE END