Morning on the ring is signaled by Monty or Harper knocking on a table with a spoon whenever the goop is ready. The clang rings, loud and clear, down the hallway.
On this morning, Harper clangs away, and sounds grumpier than usual, if a spoon on a metal table can sound grumpy.
Bellamy, on this morning, is anything but mad. Echo is nuzzled in to his side, breathing soft and deep, hair fanning out on the bed behind her. The air recycling system kicks on, and a sonorous drone lulls him into a sort of trance state. He lets himself drift, not quite ready to get up for the morning.
But then Echo stretches her long, lean body out against his side, pressing bare flesh against his bare flesh and, well. If his cock stirs as her fingers smooth over his stomach, who could blame him?
“Morning,” Echo says, eyes still closed, lips pouty.
Bellamy leans down and kisses her, parting her lips gently with his tongue. In the morning Echo is all softness and response. She just lets him kiss her, touch her. Her hands find his cock and she starts stroking him lightly. He groans into her mouth, pushes her back against the bed, because what he really wants is to taste her before he fucks her.
Echo pouts, but silently, because they can hear the patter and noise of everyone else just outside the corridor in the mess hall. The fucking will have to be quiet, though that’s just a courtesy. Everyone knows what late to a meal means.
Bellamy kisses down her body, starting behind her ear, grazing his teeth against the flesh there until Echo shivers. He nips down the long column of her neck until her hips twitch until finally he comes to her collarbone. There, he stops and pulls the skin into his mouth while running his thumb across her nipple, mimicking both motions against each other, watching as Echo’s lips part, as she arches her chest, always wanting more more more.
When he finally makes it to her cunt, she’s just like he likes it–impatient and mewling and just this side of completely undone. Only he gets to see Echo like this, vulnerable and near-to-begging for his mouth to be on her cunt, and that thought makes him so hard it’s almost painful. Sure, they’ve had the occasional guest–or two–in their room over the long years, but it’s not like what she gives to him, and just him. That, between the two of them, will always just be theirs.
“You want it?” he whispers to her, open mouthed and hot right over her slick cunt.
“Shit, Bellamy.” She threads her fingers into his hair and tugs. “Stop talking for once and put your mouth on my clit.”
“Echo,” he lightly admonishes, dipping down to give her a quick, playful lick of his tongue. “Like that?”
“I hate you,” she says without heat, canting her hips up. She darts her hand down, long fingers shoving him out of the way. “If you won’t, I will.”
He nudges her hand back. “Impatient.”
But he rewards her with a long, slow, flat tongue lick from the sensitive skin below her vulva all the way to her clit, over and over again, wet and filthy just like she likes it at first. Then, speeding up, alternating pressing his tongue hard against her clit and sucking on it, until she holds him still and fucks his mouth, finding that right friction, that just-perfect motion. She jerks once, twice, body clenched with pleasure until finally she releases with a sigh, going limp against the mattress.
Echo’s never out for long after an orgasm, and ever efficient, she slides her hips down the bed to meet his.
“Not enough for you?” Bellamy asks. He dips two fingers into her cunt, draws away her arousal and coats his dick with it.
“God, you’re mouthy,” she laughs. “Fuck me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Please.”
Bellamy fucks into her, hard, without preamble. He hauls one leg over his shoulder, and she braces the other foot against the wall, completely open to him. He grips her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he fucks her, hard, bottoming out with each stroke. Echo leans up and grips his ass, encouraging him to go faster, harder, their hips moving in one motion, over and over and over.
One moment he’s fucking her, and all he can feel is how hot her cunt his, how tight and wet, the next, the orgasm hits him so hard he grunts, feeling the sweet pleasure-pain tension release. Echo comes again, too, her tight cunt fluttering around him.
This time, they both fall back against the mattress, sweat cooling in the stale, cool, recycled air.
They must have dozed, Bellamy realizes, because they both startle at the sound of grumpy knocking against their door.
“Hey lovebirds,” Harper’s voice comes through. “You missed breakfast, and Murphy ate your rations as punishment.”
Bellamy rolled his eyes, and Echo smiled against his chest.
“Hope you had something good to eat,” Harper says, smirk in her voice, before she walks away.