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"P-please, Anya, please let me come-" Daisuke begs, his voice straining with gratification.
He looks so different like this. His usual boyish charm has mixed itself with frantic, almost insatiable need. His face is flushed a deep shade of red, his tongue is hanging out of his mouth. He is always vocal, even under normal circumstances, but, in contrast to his larger than life persona, he is... Vulnerable, now. Small.
She couldn't believe he was letting her see him like this.
She couldn't believe he was letting her take him.
"You said you would be good... Right? Do you think you’ve been good?" Anya asks in earnest, noticing how Daisuke's breath hitches, and then curls her fingers upwards, rubbing up against a spot that she read about in her textbooks, something that will make him melt further. The young man cries out loudly, almost mewling, but Anya is quick to shush him, pointing to the door's direction with her other hand. He barely makes out a garbled "S-sorry!", before placing his own hand over his mouth.
In the back of her mind, Anya knows that the door of Daisuke's room isn't locked. Can't be locked, in fact. She is as aware of it as she is aware of the lingering stares that both Curly and Jimmy throw her way, when they think she's not paying attention. She is as aware of it as she is of her place on the ship: she is a nurse, a woman - inferior, both in stature and in status. She is as aware of it as she is of the dead pixel, the one that keeps crawling back into her thoughts again and again.
She pushes it all aside as well as she can, instead trying to focus on the way Daisuke envelopes her fingers, on how pliant he is under her, but not at all boneless. His face keeps switching from excited to blissful to horny, before looping again. His hand, the one that is not currently being used as an improvised gag, is lifting up one of his thighs, showing Anya the whole of himself. The gesture is so intimate and something in her yearns for it.
She is enjoying herself so much so that when her gaze slides off the younger man, for just a moment, she spots some clear liquid between her thighs; her own desire is leaking out of her, staining the sheets. She can't remember the last time she was aroused.
(The last time someone else was, she was held down. She was taken violently, over and over and over and over and over again, ad nauseam. She had no voice, no bones left in her body that could cooperate, the only thought left in her mind's eye was that of that damned dead pixel. And she might have been crying as he took her, because after... She had no more tears left to spill. Just vomit.)
Anya pushes past her thoughts, past herself and into Daisuke, who's eyes are fixed on her with an obvious tenderness that borders on awe. His face is heated and sweaty, his long hair sticking out in all directions, eyes leaden heavy. He's falling apart, piece by piece by piece, and he's letting her take those same pieces and rearrange him. She twists her hand this way and that, mapping out what exactly makes Daisuke tick. He twitches and whimpers, rocking his body to meet her halfway, needy and wanting.
She takes as much as he allows her to, as much as she allows herself.
He's still moaning behind his hand, but, thankfully, he's quiet enough that no one would check his room for the noise (hopefully). He is, quite frankly, enjoying himself, even though she hasn't even touched his dick once in the whole encounter. Something tells Anya that she won't have to touch it to make him climax; she can't tell what it is about this thought that turns her on, but it does.
"See? You're being so good right now," Inch by inch, a smile forms on her face. Daisuke's hips jerk up and then down, "Could you come like this? With only my fingers?"
His face becomes comically horrified at that, but then her nimble fingers start hitting that spot again and again and again, ad infinitum, until Daisuke can't help but sob, nodding all the while. He looks soft and sensitive, leaking pre and drooling behind his hand. The horror washes away from his face as quickly as it first appeared.
(He took what he wanted, leaving her empty, leaving her full, leaving her empty, leaving her full, leaving her empty, leaving her full. Horror would pool in her gut anytime he came near her and it would only go away in the bathroom, down the drain. Horror seemed to be the only thing he was capable of making her feel. Sickness was the only thing he was capable of creating.)
Anya pushes away her thoughts, her hand moving faster and faster and faster, like she's chasing something with a gun or an axe or a knife. But Daisuke doesn't run, just bites down on his hand, wailing around it, pathetic and precious all at once. She can't help leaning down, prying his hand away (it might bruise and get infected if Daisuke digs in too deep and she can't have that; she's still a nurse) and replacing it with her lips.
She claims his mouth in a searing kiss, tasting sweetness and sweat. Daisuke responds with passion, his tongue dancing with hers, playful and desperate. He smells like flowers and something fruity, pleasantly so. His lips are soft as petals, unlike hers, which are bitten and bleeding half the time.
She can't get enough of him, his smell, his taste. She kisses him continuously, licking at his tongue and feeling his responses in her own mouth. She doesn’t know why she enjoys this, why this form of intimacy is so vital to her now, but it is. His affection is obvious, he looks at her and he sees her, he looks at her like she is worth loving, worth giving love to.
When they drift apart, there's a single thick string of saliva that connects them to each other. His eyes lock onto hers.
She hasn't noticed that she stopped moving her fingers when she was trying to suck his soul out of his face, so she picks up the pace again, only this time it's her hand that covers Daisuke's mouth. He looks so pretty, with his disheveled hair and loving gaze. He's under her, letting her do all of these things to him, letting her take control, letting her take him. The space between her legs throbs.
Daisuke whines behind her hand... And then, his lips part and he pulls her fingers into his mouth, sucking gently.
She can't take it anymore.
"Daisuke," She whispers, "You are going to cum soon, okay?.. Could you do it on my count? On three?"
He nods, jerking his head with so much enthusiasm he looks like a bobblehead.
"G-good, good boy. Now stay still, please? Still and quiet," She instructs gently, for fear of sounding demanding or aggressive. She knows she's successful when a shiver runs down Daisuke's entire body, his eyes glazing over. Anya's smile grows bigger, "One."
She pistons her hand in and out of Daisuke's ass, aiming anywhere but the right spot. It's almost cruel of her, but she can't help it. The fingers in his mouth lazily poke at his cheeks from the inside. He sucks on them more.
"Two."
It's the way Daisuke keeps whimpering and shaking, trying his hardest to follow her rules, trying his hardest to please her whims, trying so hard to be good for her. He looks ready to burst at the seams, to fall apart, to be reborn. Obedience looks good on him, she thinks. His legs tremble.
"Three."
As she thought, Daisuke spills himself with little to no help at all. She lets him milk himself dry on her fingers, which are finally aiming for his prostate. He rides out the orgasm, twitching with aftershocks and making pretty noises around her hand all the while. His face is scrunched with satisfaction, like he's on cloud nine and unwilling to come down, like he's being rearranged and put together a thousand times over.
She waits for him to stop moving, to put the pieces back together. He's heaving like he'd just ran a marathon and, in Anya's books, he might as well have.
When he does, she sighs, planning on taking away her hands. Except after she does, Daisuke grabs the one that gagged him in his, cradling it.
"Oh my go-o-od," He inhales sharply, panting like a dog. He takes a second to recollect his thoughts, still reeling from his climax, muscling past the giddy delight. Once he does, his face widens into a grin, "Jesus, Anya, t-that was... That was so awesome! I haven't come like that, like, ever! I didn't know you had it in you, but this was, just, amazing!" He looks at her like she hung up the moon, like she has done something extraordinary. The stars in his eyes twinkle and she can't discern the look on his face, until it turns into mischief, "Can I do something for you real quick? Please please please? Pretty please, with a cherry on top? I'll be a good boy, promise!"
Daisuke practically shines, brighter than the sun and again everything inside her shrinks, but not from horror. Instead, her stomach pools with unmistakable heat. Anya exhales, considering the question.
"Well... What do you want to do?"
"Okay, so I had a wild time my first year of college, right? And there was that one girl, she actually taught me a whole lot about all sorts of sexy stuff, but the thing I actually wanted to do was to, like, uh, eat you out? That’s pretty vanilla and I heard I'm good at it, scout's honor! Ah, but only if you want?.."
(He never asked. She wouldn't have answered him, wouldn't have said yes, but he never asked.)
"If you're sure, then... Go for it. Show me what you got."
And go for it he does.
Submissive and eager to please, Daisuke sinks to his knees in front of her, hitting the floor with a "thunk". He looks far too innocent like this, cheeky and charming and excruciatingly cute. He spreads her legs carefully, grinning up at her before diving in to kiss the inside of her thigh.
Anya shudders as Daisuke sucks on her plush flesh teasingly. Her hand, which still has his spit on it, gets tangled in his hair, ruffling it even more, but he pays it no mind. In fact, he thinks of it as encouragement to tease her other thigh, sucking and leaving behind hickeys.
"Daisuke," She gasps, tightening her grip on his hair, "B-be a good boy, okay?"
He squirms a bit, then shuffles himself closer to her, a challenge rising under his lashes. It's the same expression as when he challenges her to their board games, when he knows full well that he's about to get a little mean and drive her crazy.
Daisuke keeps teasing her, evading her pussy on purpose. She's practically sure that the particular spot under her is soaked through, that’s how wet she feels. Frustrated, Anya tugs at his hair, pulling his face closer, at last guiding his lips to her lower ones. The intern twitches as if electrocuted and, for a moment, Anya thinks that she has done something horribly wrong (useless, stupid, why did she think-)
"Fu-u-uck, do that again, please do that, oh my god," Daisuke shudders through a guttural moan, interrupting her thoughts, "Please!"
"I, uh, what?" Anya asks intelligently.
"Anya, please pull my hair again, I'm begging you, please,"
She fulfills his request in silent confusion. He makes the noise again. She tugs harder. His voice strains with the effort of keeping quiet.
The look of challenge drains from his face, instead it's replaced with the pretty blush from before. He looks almost embarrassed. Almost, because she sees that his right hand is creeping up to his dick. He's not touching it, but it's close enough to know his intention. Still, his focus is on her, as she pulls him closer to his destination.
Daisuke doesn't need more convincing. Finally, he puts his tongue to good use, taking a swipe across her cunt, then another, lapping at her with certainty. He's weirdly precise about it, first circling her clockwise, then counter-clockwise, drinking her essence like it's his last drink on Earth the ship.
Anya never had anyone do that to her (and it's not like she had ever had that many partners, none of whom would be so willing to do cunnilingus), so the sensation feels foreign to her, more so than having her fingers inside someone's ass (she's a nurse, it's not that out of left field). She bites her lip to keep silent.
The main thing is that she feels good, better than before, better than at any time on this cursed ship. And she feels good physically, being pleasured in all the right ways, the way she imagined it would feel like to have an adoring lover. Daisuke feasts on her with vigorous intention, wanting nothing more than to make her come.
And, yeah, she supposes that he's returning the favour, but even then it was he who rendered himself defenseless, leaving her in full control. And now, she can't help but savor the moment, thrusting her cunt into the interns face, trying to drag him in deeper within herself.
He groans against her folds, pausing for a second to impatiently take himself in hand. The vibrations shoot up her spine and she locks her thighs around his head. Daisuke doesn't seem to mind, with the way he's sucking on her clit, circling it, licking it; it's driving her crazy. He's all up in her, yet he's careful not to insert his tongue too far, as if Anya could even think about refusing him at this point. No, the only thoughts worth thinking are of him and his tongue and all the things he does to her.
Daisuke seems to almost vibrate and a quick glance down reveals as much. He's jerking off, his head bobbing with the force of it, sending tingles to her through his tongue. His licking has gotten sloppier, clumsier, but not any less hot. Maybe more so, actually. Anya could feel his drool on her thighs, on the sheets beneath, on her fingers still tangled in his hair, on her pussy and on her lips. A mark of his presence, invisible, but no less claiming, and yet it doesn't burn, doesn't sting like she was branded.
Something coils in her belly, but it's not sickness, not dread, not horror, not anything that feels familiar. She can't recognize it until it hits her in the face, and butterflies burst through her eyes, flowing out of her with tears as she's stimulated to completion. The butterflies don’t stop coming and she's elated, she's brought higher than she ever thought she could be, as if she herself had just grown wings. The metamorphosis rocks her, pulses with euphoria and she can't tell if that muffled scream belongs to her, if she's always been able to make that sound. She doesn’t notice that Daisuke is no longer on his knees until he kisses her, silencing and magnifying her scream at the same time, with her fluids still in his mouth.
He's as sweet and sweaty as before, but she can also taste herself, she can taste the death of a thousand caterpillars, she can taste rebirth and she can taste bliss. It tastes like the tea she had back on Earth, with hibiscus sabdariffa and some type of natural sweetener, because she read somewhere that it lowers blood pressure. The thought brings her back and forward and back: she's on Earth, she's with Daisuke, she's inside, she's outside, she's half full and half empty, in perfect balance, in sync with herself for the first time since...
No. She doesn’t think it, doesn't even let her think what 'it' could be, no, she refuses. She's happy and she's kissing someone wonderful and there are butterflies in her stomach and she can actually cry again, so instead she laughs and laughs and laughs.
Her voice echoes throughout the room, loud and quiet, and Daisuke lets her laughter carry into his mouth and then she kisses him just because she can, because she wants to, because it feels right. Love is needled through every touch of their bodies and Anya's mind blessedly dissolves bit by bit.
His arms wrap around her, keeping her gently tethered to the ship. They kiss and they kiss and they kiss, breaking away only to laugh and to breathe and to laugh again. Heart to heart, chest to chest, they fall back into his bed and she leaves one final peck on his lips, before resting her head on his thorax.
"I think I'm in love with you," Daisuke whispers like a prayer, like a promise, like an epiphany.
"I believe you," She responds just as softly, "I think I am in love with you, too."
He hugs her closer, and he is as warm as the sun, and shines twice as brightly. In his light, she can't help but feel safe.
In his arms, she drifts into the realm of Morpheus.
She is loved.