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Biological Imperative

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“Hold on,” was all Moira said as she unbuckled her safety belt, and Angela rolled her eyes but remained in her seat. The moon was already high in the sky and she could make out Moira’s stern features as she watched the tall woman round the front of the car to open the passenger door for her, holding out her free hand. “In case there’s ice,” she muttered.

“In case there’s ice,” Angela acquiesced with a grin, allowing Moira to help her out of the car. Moira wrapped her long arm around Angela once more and Angela found she’d grown quite used to it, and she knew she’d miss it when Moira disappeared again.

Most of the lights at Overwatch, both in the main building and the dormitory complex, were darkened: Tomorrow was a work day, and the parking lot was quiet and lit only by the moon as they walked. Both cast their gaze downward, wary of ice in the now-freezing night, but none had formed in the lot quite yet. It would probably be treacherous come morning.

Motorpool closed at 2100, they’d missed the station attendant by only about a quarter of an hour. Breaking off from Angela, Moira deposited the keys in the after-hours receptacle beside the window, and she was running a hand through her hair as they walked side by side toward the elevator bank leading to the dormitories.

“Thank you, Moira,” Angela said warmly as she hit the ‘up’ button to call the lift, “For inviting me out. I know you’ve been busy. I’m glad you could get some time away.”

Moira sniffed, her smile bright when she looked to Angela, “So am I.”

Angela was inclined to push herself against Moira’s side again, to coax her to put her arm back to its proper place around her, but with a chime the lift opened ahead of them. Moira motioned Angela to go ahead of her, and as Moira entered second there was a single audible click. When she stepped back to the rear of the lift she was smoothing her hands down the sides of her coat, and when she took her place standing next to Angela, both facing forward, only the number five was glowing.

Angela felt her pulse quicken, but she forced herself to lean casually against the back railing. Should she say something? Or not? Did Moira expect her to select her own floor? Of course not. Moira knew where she lived, obviously, and given her actions throughout the night she had to imagine Moira would have wanted to walk her to her quarters, wouldn’t she? Moira wasn’t walking Angela home. They were going to Moira’s quarters. Angela could feel a giddy smile on her features no matter how much she tried to force it away, and when she chanced to look at Moira she could see the older woman glaring sternly at the floor indicator, now dimming from three as four lit brightly. Then five.

The sound of the elevator doors sliding open nearly covered the sounds of each woman inhaling deeply, and Moira ran a hand through her hair. Angela hoped she didn’t look as nervous as she felt, as nervous as Moira looked. She cocked her head toward the hall beyond the elevator and smiled, willing her voice to be steady, “This is it, then?” She stepped out of the elevator, and Moira followed her quickly with an audible exhalation.

“Y-yes,” Moira fell into step beside her and nodded her head toward a t-shaped intersection far down the hall, “This way.”

Angela had been on these floors many times. Sometimes when agents were experiencing a difficult recovery or were too infectious to visit the medical bay Angela would pay visits to their quarters, though she had not done so in over a year. Now the halls were dim, only a third of the fluorescent lighting was kept on in the dormitory halls at night, and no one seemed to be about.

If she was still nervous after they’d stepped into the hall, Moira did a decent job of covering it. Yes, she ran her right hand down along her coat as she so often did when she was nervous, and Angela thought she could hear her swallow loudly, but she’d fixed Angela with an inviting smile and held her hand out to her. Angela took it, lacing their fingers as they walked, and wondered if Moira would have done the same if there were others in the hall. She pushed the thought from her mind. It didn’t matter, not right now.

Moira’s unit was not on the main thoroughfare like Angela’s was, they turned left from the main hall, then right at the following fork, then right again into a small hall with entrances to four units facing one another around the alcove, “Like your neighbors?” Angela asked conversationally, her tone cheerful, as Moira dropped her hand to flatten her palm against the biometric scanner beside the first door on the right.

Moira grunted a bit as the door slid open, “I’ve never met them.” She ducked into her darkened quarters, pitch black except for the bit of dim light entering from the alcove, and Angela stepped in afterward.

That’s right, of course. Moira spent most of her time in her lab. She likely came up only to shower and change, though Angela was amused as she briefly imagined Moira using the safety shower in her lab to avoid having to make the trip to her quarters. She didn’t walk any further into the room, especially after the door slid shut behind her, unsure of the layout or condition or even where Moira actually was, though she heard her shuffling around in the darkness. The room was cool, and it smelled of tuberose, incense, plums, and honey.

After a moment there was a small clunk and a buzz as the AmbiUV unit powered on, shedding a cool blue hue reminiscent of moonlight throughout the unit. While Moira busied herself turning on a few more lights, apparently fond of multiple table lamps in her quarters as well, Angela surveyed the room, becoming more and more bathed in golden light as Moira worked.

Indeed the quarters where much like her own, but a bit more cramped without the added room for the oven, the bath tub, or the large exterior windows.  Most of the room’s floor space was taken up by the standard Overwatch furniture: Moira had pushed her neatly-made double bed flush against the wall, her bedside table moved toward the interior of the room, and her table and its two chairs were under the AmbiUV where Angela’s quarters offered a bench seat instead. The table featured neat piles of periodicals stacked on top of textbooks, and her kitchenette looked little-used. Compared to the laboratory with its precarious mountains of journals and unused glassware cache Moira’s living space was downright tidy, possibly due to being so rarely lived in.

“Ah, do you want something to drink?” Moira had hung her coat and had finished lighting several small lamps, one on the bedside table, one on the counter of the kitchenette, one on the dining table, and their warm glow combined with the artificial moonlight of the AmbiUV to leave the room well-lit, yet intimately so. With one long stride she was pulling open the refrigerator in the kitchenette, smaller than the one in Angela’s quarters, and Angela noted very little was inside, “I have . . . water.” Moira turned back to her apologetically, “Sorry, it’s that or whiskey.”

Angela nodded, “Water’s fine, thank you.” Moira fished from her cabinet two old-fashioned glasses as Angela removed her scarf and coat, draping them over the back of one of the chairs into which she then settled, “Do you like your AmbiUV?” Angela asked curiously, sensing Moira’s nervousness about hosting her in her quarters.

Moira shrugged noncommittally as she set the empty glasses on the table before returning to the kitchenette. She fetched a pitcher of water from the refrigerator, and from the cabinet above she pulled a bottle of whiskey, the same brand she kept in her office, though this bottle was new. Moira pulled the red seal off the fat green-tinted bottle as she explained, “I’m not here often enough to really use it much, but it’s nice when the sun is out I suppose.”

“Mmmm,” Angela nodded, “You should try to use the UV setting for—“

“Fifteen minutes each day?” Moira grinned tauntingly as she filled Angela’s glass from the pitcher, and Angela thought she rather looked like a fancy waiter, dressed so finely and standing so straight, “Yes, I’ve seen the wonderful signage that the medical department has distributed throughout the facility.”

Angela laughed, “Everyone’s a critic until they end up with osteomalacia, Moira.”

Moira laughed as well as she settled into the seat across from Angela and poured whiskey into her own glass. She seemed to relax somewhat, taking a large drink from her glass and looking into the glass appreciatively afterwards. Angela relaxed as well, finishing most of her water quickly before leaning back and folding her hands over her growing baby bump. They sat in silence for several minutes. This was a comfortable thing, to sit quietly with Moira, and the only thing that had Angela on edge at all was that Moira had not taken her eyes off of her for some time.

She finished what remained of her whisky with one more large gulp and set her glass on top of a pile of old issues of Nature, her eyes not leaving Angela, finally asking with a soft voice and caring eyes, “How are you feeling?”

Angela shrugged with a smile, trailing her palm over her stomach, a movement Moira watched attentively, “Good, it’s been a good day.”

“And your back?” Moira implored with some trepidation, “You’re not in pain?”

Well, no, she wasn’t, not really. She’d been comfortably resting the entire ride home, and had no complaints to speak of. But here was a thought, and as it occurred to her she wondered if it hadn’t occurred to Moira as well. She sat up straight, arching her back and groaning, “I’ll survive, but it’s been better.” She hoped she sounded convincing.

Moira wet her lips, and Angela could hear her draw in a shaky breath, wiping her hands along her thighs before raising them, clearing her throat as she motioned for Angela to come to her, “D-Doctor Meier said it might help?” She used her long legs to push her chair out from the table, giving Angela space to come between.

Angela’s own mouth was dry as she stood, her pulse in her ears, and she took a small half-step toward Moira. She cleared her throat, suddenly feeling sheepish as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Ah, where do you, ah, want me?”

Moira’s hands were still up, and she lightly placed them on Angela’s hips, spinning her and tugging lightly to coax the smaller woman onto her lap. Angela’s mind was filled with memories of Moira’s hands doing much the same, guiding her down onto Moira’s lap, then those same long fingers pushing inside her, pulling her roughly to the edge, pushing her over it so expertly. She was glad she was turned around, as she had been then, because she felt her face grow hot. She forced her breath to slow, but could do little for her racing heart as she sat as delicately as possible onto Moira’s thighs. This time, unlike before, she didn’t settle bodily against Moira, press herself against Moira’s chest. How nice it would have been to do just that, but obviously that was not in tonight’s program.

When Angela was settled Moira’s hands left her hips, moving smoothly to the small of her back, “Where does it hurt?” Moira wasn’t whispering, but her voice was quiet, comforting.

Shit. Nowhere? “Umm, a little bit of everywhere?”

If Moira knew she was . . . being creative with the truth she did not indicate it, and momentarily Angela let out a breath, slowly and loudly, feeling Moira press her thumbs along the side of her spine at the base of her back. Moira rested her hands against Angela, and she felt her fingers curl around her sides lightly while Moira worked her thumbs in strong, slow circles immediately to either side of her spine. Angela couldn’t help but let out an audible groan, finding tension she didn’t know she’d held being worked away.

“Good?” Moira asked, and she sounded almost cocky. It was charming, Angela thought, and altogether too alluring.

“Mmmmmm,” Angela responded, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the nearby dining table, giving Moira better access to the full of her back. She groaned appreciatively once more as Moira began working her fingers inch by inch up Angela’s back, continuing her small circles with her thumbs with every shift of her hands.

They were silent for quite some time, well, no one said anything. Silence wasn’t quite the right word, though. Angela quickly gave up any effort to avoid voicing satisfied grunts and groans, and they didn’t seem to bother Moira who would occasionally give her own huff or appreciative chuckle to follow some of Angela’s louder groans. Angela soon found that Moira was good with her hands in more ways than previously realized, and Moira shifted between small tight circles with her thumbs to pushing roughly with her palms, she traced the back of Angela’s ribcage firmly with the tips of her fingers and used her knuckles to knead the soft flesh above Angela’s waist.

“Maybe you should have been a masseuse,” Angela finally croaked out after some time, and she found she was leaning heavily on the table to withstand the pressure from Moira’s hands.

“Mmmm, probably pays better,” was Moira’s wry reply, and Angela began to chuckle before it devolved into another loud groan as Moira shifted again to using her knuckles. Angela had truly had no back pain when they began, but she was surprised to find that Moira was able to hone in on stiffness, tightness, tension she had no idea she was carrying. Perhaps it had been her slip on the ice the previous month, perhaps it had been the psychological weight of these three weeks alone. Perhaps, of course, it was the growing baby she carried with her everywhere she went. The night shifts, the winter weather, the poor sleep. Who knows what caused it all? But Moira was expertly driving it all away, and Angela had needed it desperately.

“H-hold on,” Angela grunted, and Moira stopped immediately, though she didn’t withdraw her hands.

“Sorry, is everything alright? Too rough?” Moira sounded apprehensive.

Angela grinned to herself. Everything was fine, but as much as she had found she needed this, there were other things she needed too. And at this point she was fairly confident Moira needed the same thing, or at least wanted it. “It’s not that,” She said as she stood, Moira’s hands leaving her as she pulled away, and she said over her shoulder in a voice that she hoped portrayed more teasing than the underlying want, “You can be as rough as you want, Moira.” She didn’t have to turn around, she knew from the small cough, from the way Moira cleared her throat and the way she shifted her legs positioned around Angela where she stood, that Moira’s ears were bright red.

Angela took a deep, steadying breath. She wondered if Moira’s ears grew redder as she reached back, finding the zipper on her dress, and lowered it enough to push her dress off her shoulders. She’d wanted to listen, to hear if she could hear Moira’s reaction, but the rustle of the fabric was deafening as she pushed the stretchy front over her bump and hooked her thumbs below the fabric to push the dress all the way down, letting it fall around her ankles.

She knew she probably looked somewhat ridiculous. Not as bad as she could have, yes, but she hadn’t quite expected things to unfold in this manner. Of course, knowing she was going on a maybe-date, she had opted for the most alluring of the panties she had picked out at the maternity store, but she certainly hadn’t made the trip to buy lingerie on such short notice. The panties weren’t really the issue, they even matched with the black satin bra she wore. The issue was the socks, of course. Black satin bra, matching panties . . . and socks that went all the way up to the tops of her thighs. The look, of course, was completed in grand style with her high winter boots. She sighed. Nothing to help it now.

Moira, too, sighed, and Angela fought the urge to look back, to look imploringly for some reinforcement, reassurance, validation. She didn’t look back, but validation came anyway as she felt Moira’s long fingers wrap again around her hips, tugging her as they had before, back into place on Moira’s lap. As she settled down once again she heard Moira, her voice quiet and shaky but with more than a hint of mirth, “Nice socks.”

“Thanks,” Angela grinned despite her nervousness and gave a shrug, leaning against the table again and running her fingers up her arms, feeling the gooseflesh in the cool room, “They keep my legs warm.”

Moira just laughed, and her hands returned to their previous work, this time unimpeded by Angela’s dress, “Good, then,” Moira said with a confidence that faded immediately afterward, and Angela felt her warm hands move swiftly up her back, a sensation that made her shudder. Moira continued, sounding less certain, “So I take it this isn’t as important?” With a small tug the pressure around Angela’s chest released, and her bra came loose as Moira returned her hands to Angela’s waist, once more beginning slow, steady circles with her thumbs.

Angela was sure she had let out a quiet gasp of surprise when she felt her bra come loose, but she quickly stifled any further reaction, and simply reached her fingers up to push the straps down and let it fall to the table. She shook her head, “I’ll survive without it.”

“Good, it was in the way,” Moira responded quietly, and they fell back into the pseudo-silence, though this time Angela’s appreciative groans were louder, and now she could feel Moira’s hot breath on her back, breath which seemed to come faster each time Moira moved up her spine, her long fingertips brushing up Angela’s sides, sometimes chancing to touch across the soft skin under Angela’s breasts before Moira would pull her fingers away once more.  

Moira’s warm hands were on her back, and warmth spread from every bit of skin that her fingers found, meeting a flush from deep within Angela, a flush which undoubtedly had made it to her face. In contrast, the room remained cool. Angela had gooseflesh across the front of her body, across her arms, her swollen stomach, her hardened nipples. It was cold, but she knew that wasn’t the cause.

“Moira?”

“Hmmmm?” Moira sounded equal parts curious and distracted, but didn’t stop her work.

Angela licked her lips. “I . . . missed you. After you left my quarters.”

When Angela heard Moira inhale, it wasn’t sharp, it wasn’t nervous, it wasn’t apprehensive. Just exhausted. It left Angela feeling uncertain, but she pressed on, determined to fish out what Moira felt, “I was worried . . . that you regretted staying with me. The kiss.” She finished quietly, barely a whisper, but it morphed, unwanted, into a groan as Moira pushed her knuckles across Angela’s bare back.

“I did.” Moira said quietly, then cleared her throat. She stopped her efforts, her hands falling to rest on Angela’s hips.

The room was much colder, and it wasn’t due to the sudden absence of Moira’s hands. Angela’s heart sank, and she scowled, her fists clenching. Surely she misunderstood. What they were doing now, the night they’d had-- she couldn’t mean she regretted it. She meant she regretted leaving. Surely. “W-what?”

A whoosh of hot air across Angela’s back heralded Moira’s shift, and Angela shuddered as Moira’s hands left her hips, up to her waist, and Moira wrapped her arms around Angela, only so far as to interlock her long fingers over Angela’s bare, growing stomach. Her voice, quieter now, still sounded of exhaustion, “I shouldn’t have stayed. I shouldn’t have . . . done what I did.”

Angela pressed her eyes shut tight, trying to force away the pain that pricked at their edges, and she moved to stand. If Moira could storm off, so could she. If Moira could regret an intimate moment, well, Angela was sure she would be able to as well. It was as much Moira’s hands locked around her waist as Moira’s tone that stopped her from rising, and Moira began quietly, each word spoken slowly and deliberately, as though she were more speaking to herself than to Angela, “It—it is better to shun the bait,” She sighed again, and she moved her hands from Angela’s stomach to rest on her back, unmoving, allowing her to stand if she wanted, “Than to struggle in the snare.”

Quiet in the room. Angela didn’t try to stand, but nor did she relax, considering carefully. Finally her shoulders slumped, and she thought her voice sounded defeated, “You think I’ve trapped you?”

It was Moira’s turn to contemplate this for a time, and Angela finally couldn’t help but twist to look at her as Moira’s hands dropped to her hips once more. When their eyes met Moira’s smile was kind, and she shook her head. Her cheeks were pink in the soft glow of the many small lamps, and she leaned against Angela, resting her chin heavily on Angela’s shoulder. Her voice was soft, almost forlorn, and Angela could feel her words come in puffs of air at her cheek, “I think it’s dangerous how much I want to be trapped by you.” Moira lowered her head, burying her face in the crook of Angela’s neck, and she felt Moira’s heavy sigh stir her hair.

They sat like that for a time, saying nothing. Finally, though, Angela rallied herself. When she stood, pulling away from Moira without a word, she could almost feel Moira’s dismay, and briefly her heart went out to her. She stretched, then, with another loud groan, and reached over the table to take her forgotten glass in hand, gulping down the last of the water and setting it back down. 

When she turned fully to face Moira she was slumped in her chair, her arms had returned to the rests. She instinctively looked toward Angela as she’d turned, but quickly averted her eyes, turning a red ear toward Angela’s near-naked form. Moira cleared her throat, and Angela would be forever curious what she would have said had Angela not stopped her then by gingerly stepping forward, resting one knee to the either side of Moira’s legs in order to regain her place in Moira’s lap. Moira turned then, looking imploringly toward Angela, her lips parted and her brow furrowed.

Angela smiled, her kneeling position giving her the uncommon position of being eye-to-eye with Moira, and she raised her hands to Moira’s face, cupping her cheeks and running her thumbs across Moira’s high cheekbones. “Then don’t struggle,” She whispered, and she pressed her lips lightly to Moira’s, finishing as she pulled away slightly, “I’m not going to hurt you, Moira.”

She could hear Moira swallow, feel the muscles tense under her fingers that fanned down across Moira’s neck, and Moira’s whisper was warm against her lips, “I’m not so sure.” Despite her claimed uncertainty her lips found Angela’s again, just as chaste as any time before. It wasn’t until Angela felt her hands moving up her back once more, pulling her against Moira’s chest that her lips parted and finally she knew the feeling of Moira’s tongue playing over her lips, searching for her own.

Things moved slowly at first; Moira adjusted in the chair under Angela and tightened her arms around her, Angela’s bare skin rubbing harshly against the scratchy tweed vest. Angela didn’t mind, thankful for the warmth in the cool room, warmth spreading quickly across her whole body as she pressed closer, letting her hands trail back, looping one arm around Moira’s neck while with the other hand she ran her fingers languidly through Moira’s hair.

Angela had to admit that, while the brief foray into discussions of regret had dampened her spirits momentarily, the consistent, rough treatment from Moira’s hands had already piqued her interests in more than a few ways, and she chose not to feel embarrassed when every incursion of Moira’s tongue brought from her some soft whimper or stifled moan, and she was spurred on all the more when Moira responded in kind.

Moira’s hands parted ways at her back; she felt the maddening sensation of Moira running her nails up her spine to the base of her neck, and she groaned loudly into Moira’s mouth as she felt the older woman push her fingers into her blonde hair, pulling her deeper into the kiss as Moira probed her mouth hungrily with a moan of her own in response. Her other hand was not idle, crossing down over Angela’s back, and shortly thereafter a certain dream of Angela’s did finally come true and she whimpered as she felt Moira’s strong grip take hold of her ass, felt her long fingers brush along the bit of bare thigh between where her socks ended and her panties began.

For several minutes they remained in such a state, Moira’s fist in Angela’s hair driving their hungry, breathless kisses while Angela pressed against Moira’s massaging hand. She found that if she wriggled her hips in just the right way in tandem with Moira’s machinations she could coax Moira’s long fingers to venture slightly, ever so lightly, between her legs for the briefest of moments before Moira would readjust her grip with an intoxicating chuckle against her lips. With every thrust of her hips, every time she heard Moira gasp in response to Angela’s light nips at her lips, heat spread between them.

Angela let the hand not preoccupied with playing lightly among the short hairs on the back of Moira’s neck fall down between them. While the rough fabric of Moira’s waistcoat created a not entirely unpleasant sensation against her bare skin, Angela was far more interested in being rid of it. She was clumsy with the buttons, but it was easier when Moira released her from their kiss, opting instead to explore down Angela’s chin, tilting her head back with a light tug from the hand tangled among Angela’s hair. Angela gave a soft “mmmmph” of approval as Moira’s hot breath touched each bit of skin moments before her lips did, and Moira quickly found her way to the sensitive spot just behind Angela’s jaw. Angela wasn’t sure what was louder, her own pulse hammering or Moira’s ragged breaths against her ear.

Feeling Moira was doing just fine without her hand to guide her, Angela loosed her fingers from Moira’s hair and quickly went to work on the waistcoat buttons, making short work of them now that she could concentrate. Well, she couldn’t concentrate, not with Moira’s skilled efforts, but she was a bit more focused at least, and soon she was pushing the opened waistcoat down Moira’s shoulders.

Moira pulled her hands away, eager to assist her, and Angela hoped she would return them right back to where they were, or better yet, replace the rough tweed that had been chafing Angela’s swollen breasts with something more pleasant. Apparently finding it difficult to shuck her vest while keeping her attentions at Angela’s neck, Moira broke away. Her breath was fast and ragged, her hair mussed wonderfully by Angela’s fingers. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks pink, her eyes somehow both wild and unfocused, but nonetheless set on Angela. When Angela smiled, Moira did too, and they both chuckled softly as Moira’s vest fell to the floor.  Angela leaned in, planting a firm, chaste kiss on Moira’s lips, and she could feel Moira’s smile. When she pulled away, Angela’s words were more breath than voice, “How do you want to do this?”

She could stay like this, of course. Moira could easily work her hand between Angela’s legs as they sat, but Angela longed for something different, something more. Yes, they were already far more intimate than they had been in Moira’s office, where they had never so much as kissed. But somehow Angela felt that more was necessary. She could finish like this, yes. She was well aware of how up to the task Moira’s fingers were, but tonight? Tonight would be different.

But it had only just occurred to her that she had no idea what Moira might prefer. Because their previous encounters had always been centered around Angela and very goal-oriented in that regard, she hadn’t yet experienced what Moira might want. She’d certainly dreamt a variety of ways that Moira might want to take control, yes, but who knows how well-founded those thoughts were?

“What?” Moira mumbled quietly against Angela’s skin as she moved her lips from the crook of Angela’s neck across the top of her shoulder in a trail of warm, chaste kisses. Her hands were already back in motion; she’d looped the opposite arm this time around Angela’s waist and now when her hand returned to kneading Angela’s ass roughly it did so beneath Angela’s black satin panties. As wonderful as it felt, far more distracting was the newfound activity of Moira’s other hand which had begun in much the same place as her lips, but rather than following along her shoulder Moira trailed her fingers down along Angela’s clavicle, and when Moira filled her palm with one of Angela’s swollen breasts, letting her nipple settle neatly in the crook between her thumb and forefinger, Angela groaned with appreciation.

Maybe she didn’t need to ask Moira what she wanted. Moira seemed happy to just do as she pleased, and Angela found it didn’t bother her one bit. But the question had already been asked, and Angela smirked, turning her face toward Moira’s as she finished her trip out to her shoulder, eager to see that flustered look. She cleared her throat and adopted the best bedroom voice she could, not that it was a stretch given her current state: “I asked, Moira, how you wanted to fuck.”

Moira’s mismatched eyes were wide, the pupils dark pools of wanting in the golden glow of the lamps, but otherwise she seemed not nearly so flustered as Angela had expected her to become. Then again, her cheeks had already been flushed, her breath already quickened. Moira seemed to think for a moment, and she licked her lips, grinning as she moved to press her lips against Angela’s ear, husking hotly, “Frequently.

The tables had turned, and Angela felt the blush spread from her chest up all the way to her ears, and she didn’t bother stifling the groan the response had elicited. She turned her head, pressing her cheek into Moira’s, and spoke directly into her ear in turn, “Mmmm, good. But I mean tonight.

Moira pulled her head back, settling into the chair as she adopted a look of contemplation, smiling at Angela while continuing the work of each of her hands. Angela didn’t take her eyes from Moira’s thoughtful gaze, but she found herself once again moving her body in a sort of rhythm as she straddled Moira. She alternated between pushing against Moira’s hand as it massaged her breast, squeezing and rubbing lightly around her nipple, and continuing to try to coax Moira’s lower hand to move further between her legs. Soon Moira’s hand trailed from Angela’s breast to rest over her baby bump, and Moira still smiled but her tone was much more clinical, “I’m not sure what you can and can’t do.”

Angela busied her hands picking at the knot in Moira’s tie, also falling easily into a more clinical manner, though Moira’s hand was still tucked into the back of her panties, kneading roughly, and she was not immune to the effects. “Well,” she huffed a bit with exasperation, and pouted down at the tie, “I did do some research on the matter some time ago, you know, just in case.”

“Just in case,” Moira smiled slyly at her, and Angela rolled her eyes, “Well? And what were your findings, Doctor?”

Angela stuck her tongue out tauntingly, but followed it immediately with a kiss before pulling back to continue, “My findings, Doctor O’Deorain,” With a final tug she pulled the knot loose, letting the strands fall limply across Moira’s chest. She placed a hand each on Moira’s shoulders, trailing her fingers along her shoulders and up her neck to once again move both hands through Moira’s hair. Moira seemed to relish the feeling, closing her eyes and tilting her head back, but she frowned upon hearing the results of Angela’s research, “Were that the existing literature is written for a particular audience.”

“A man,” Moira grunted, but she kept her eyes closed and leaned her head back into Angela’s working hands. Moira, too, put her hands to work, and Angela whimpered as Moira’s other hand found its way from her stomach to loop around her waist and Moira pulled Angela against her, a much more enjoyable sensation without the rough vest between them.

“It doesn’t matter,” Angela placed a kiss on Moira’s upturned chin, and she could feel Moira’s pulse on her lips as she trailed kisses down her neck to punctuate every couple of words, “We’re fairly educated,” a kiss, “I think that,” a kiss, “if we try really hard,” a kiss, “we’ll figure something out.”

Moira chuckled, and Angela felt it in her lips. “Is there anything you can’t do, though?”

Angela pulled back and gave a shrug. Despite the fairly objective approach to the conversation, Moira’s machinations with her hands, feeling herself pressed wholly against her body, left her aching for Moira and she knew her small whimpers, her heavy breathing, were still apparent. She saw no reason to hide them, “Anything I’m comfortable doing, really. I probably just shouldn’t lay on my stomach for long periods,” Despite everything, she felt she probably blushed a bit, “Or have you put too much of your weight directly on top of me.”

Moira lifted her head, her eyes open, and nodded. She licked her lips, and Angela felt she seemed nervous again, “But the resources, for the men and women. They had . . . directions?”

Angela nodded and gave another shrug, “Mmmm, just positions.” She suddenly felt a bit nervous herself, and her blush continued, she was sure of it, “Ah, the woman on her hands and knees with the man behind her seemed popular, probably because it puts no strain on the stomach and little on the back,” Moira’s eyes were unfocused, but when she licked her lips Angela was fairly certain she was still listening, “There were ways to prop the woman up with pillows for missionary position so the man didn’t have to be right on top of her. Let’s see . . . the woman on top.” She grinned, surveying her position in Moira’s lap, “This was one of them. There was another one, I know it,” Angela tried to picture the ridiculous stick-figure drawings in the brochure Dr. Meier had surreptitiously sent her home with during the visit she’d made alone, “Ah, like, both people on their sides, like spooning but . . . with sex.” Angela found herself laughing, “I’m sorry, I’m sure there’s a more clinical way to describe all that.”

At some point in all of that Moira had retracted her hands, and Angela felt cold. She was still in Moira’s lap, but Moira had returned her hands to the chair’s armrests, and with her nails she was picking at the corners of them. “If, um,” Moira licked her lips, and when she looked away sheepishly Angela leaned forward to place her lips against Moira’s reddened ear, “If it’s easier that way I . . . I do have a, uh, a strap-on.”

Angela heard her own breath whoosh against Moira’s ear, and she knew it must have been deafening to Moira, though she didn’t flinch away, just continued to look off toward the AmbiUV with flush all along her cheeks and across her ears. Angela’s mind was elsewhere, and she’d felt her body clench at the very thought. She’d discounted the brochure marketed towards traditional man/woman couples, but now she couldn’t help it, unbidden visuals of every position ran through her mind: Moira behind her, Moira on top of her, Moira underneath her, Moira holding her while they lay side by side. “G-“ It was Angela’s turn to swallow hard, and she simply breathed, “Get it.”

Shaking her head to bring herself back, Angela quickly backed herself out of Moira’s lap, standing to allow Moira to fetch it. Moira nodded obediently and stood, looking around her quarters with a frown, “I . . . have no idea where I put it,” she said sheepishly, “This might be a minute.” She stepped around Angela to the bedside table and began opening drawers, digging eagerly through them.

Angela took the opportunity to settle into Moira’s chair and remove her winter boots and long socks, and she hoped that as she settled back into the chair, crossing one leg over the other, she looked as sexy as she imagined. Not that it would have been noticed, as Moira paid her no mind, grumbling to herself as she pushed items around in the drawer. Angela watched with amusement. Moira’s tie still hung loose around her neck, and her hair was well and thoroughly mussed from Angela’s hands. When Moira slid the drawer closed again with an exasperated sigh Angela frowned, “No luck? Are you sure it’s here?”

“Yes,” Moira said with surprising conviction, “It’s definitely here, I’d not lose it.” She cast a look around her quarters, running her hand through her hair, “Somewhere. Ah,” In two strides she had disappeared into the en suite. Angela lost sight of Moira, but the overhead light clicked on and Angela heard her rummaging through the small closet. The exasperated grunts and the sound of shuffling and a few items even hitting the ground stirred Angela’s curiosity enough to offer to help, but by the time she had stood Moira gave a victorious “Ah-ha.” A long scraping sound heralded something being dragged from a high shelf.

The light clicked off, and Moira emerged from the en suite with a large, rectangular leather case under her arm. She looked pleased as she slid the box onto the table, taking a moment to brush bits of dust off her shoulders and out of her hair.

“Is it studded with diamonds?” Angela’s attention was wholly devoted to the box, a black leather affair with metallic clasps like a briefcase, it even had a handle for carrying the case.

“Not quite,” Moira laughed, but she looked a little embarrassed, tapping her fingernails anxiously on the top of the case for a moment. She seemed to be considering something, but shook her head and undid the clasps to push open the lid with a snap.

It didn’t look so different from what Angela would expect. The box itself was interesting, clearly custom-made to hold the toy which was nestled in foam perfectly cut to fit it. There was a bundle of fabric rolled in the top left, likely the harness. The bulk of the case was taken up by the actual toy which was nearly black with a lined pattern throughout it, maybe 16 centimeters long and 3.5 centimeters wide if Angela had to guess on the fly. A small black box, maybe 7 by 7 centimeters, was the only other item in the box.

“I hadn’t imagined you would be one to own a fancy toy,” Angela smirked, raising an eyebrow at Moira.

Moira ran her hands along her pant legs and laughed nervously, “This was, ah, a gift. I’ve had it for a long time.”

“Mmmmm, what’s so special about it that it gets such a fancy case?” Angela reached forward slowly, giving Moira a chance to stop her, but when she didn’t she took that as permission and grabbed the toy, lifting it out of the case. It was approximately as pliable as any she had used before, some give but not too much, though it was heavier than what she would have expected, and the base which usually seemed to be flared for use with a harness or possibly feature a suction cup instead had a metallic disc attached to it.

“Ah, it’s not important, we won’t . . . we don’t have to do that part,” Moira’s ears were red and she was reaching to grab the bundle of fabric. She unfurled a harness stylized to look like black boxer briefs with white trim, though when she did so Angela heard a bit of a clacking noise and presumed there were adjustable straps inside.

“Do what?” Angela was uniquely curious. She’d be curious no matter what, but the idea of Moira pulling this mystery device out of her closet was absolutely intriguing, “What’s it do?”

Moira seemed to consider for a moment, but swallowed hard and nodded, apparently to herself. “I had a roommate, when I was in undergrad. She designed this.” Angela bit back a quip about sex toy experimentation and college roommates, Moira already seemed on-edge enough as it was. Moira took the toy from Angela’s hand delicately, and held it to the light for her to see, pointing out the grey lines throughout its surface, “Circuitry, see?”

Angela nodded. The entire toy was covered with interwoven circuitry, “What does it do?”

Moira held up the harness in her other hand and showed Angela the attachment point. It wasn’t a simple O-ring like any other Angela had seen, there was some sort of locking mechanism, and as Moira brought the metallic, notched base of the toy to it and twisted it into place it locked audibly. Moira held up the combined device, “So we can use this, just like any other.”

“But why the circuits?” Angela was getting cold again, and she could feel gooseflesh rising on her arms and legs.

“My roommate, she was interested in matter manipulation,” Moira explained quickly, and from the cadence of her voice it was clear to Angela she was nervous, trying to get the explanation over with quickly, “The kind of stuff that eventually led to hard light. It wasn’t anywhere near hard light, back then, nothing permanent.” Moira set the assembled strap-on on the table and fetched the small black box from the case, popping it open to reveal a metallic hoop a bit wider than the toy.

“You have a cock ring for your strap-on?” Angela quirked an eyebrow, and Moira’s exasperated glare made her giggle.

“It’s not a cock ring, Angela,” She said with a bit of a snap, and Angela struggled greatly to avoid laughing at the absurdity of Moira snapping about cock rings. Moira seemed to consider for a moment, then shrugged, “Well, not in that sense, it isn’t.”

“Okay,” Angela shrugged, leaning against the table, “Tell me about your hard light strap-on, I’m listening.”

Moira huffed a bit and ran her free hand through her hair before continuing, holding the hoop up as she explained, “She was studying mechanical engineering, this was her thesis, and this,” Moira motioned casually to the case and its contents, “Was the prototype she designed to test it.”

“So what does it actually do?

“It’ll be easier to show you,” Moira set the hoop down carefully on the foam in the open case and picked up the harness again. She once again pointed to the circuits on the toy, “Circuitry.” She turned the harness inside out, and Angela saw that indeed at the very top of the thigh and following the waistband were small leather straps which could be tightened.  But there was more inside too: Moira was running her fingers along lines of circuitry that ran from behind the attachment point of the toy, down across the front to where, sitting between what would be the wearer’s legs, was another metallic attachment point, “Circuitry.”

She looked to Angela to be sure she was following along, and when she was certain she was, she took the hoop back in hand. When she spoke again, her voice was nervous, “She wasn’t able to harness hard-light, of course, not in those days. But she was able to generate matter in a similar fashion, it just wasn’t very stable.

“Dangerous?” Angela furrowed her brow.

“Ah, no, not that kind of unstable. Just . . . temporary. Very temporary.”  

“So you couldn’t build with it.”

“No, and so everyone thought it was worthless,” Moira chuckled a bit, “And I guess if you want to build buildings it was, but, uh . . . she decided to make something different. As a proof of concept. This is one of her prototypes.”

“Show me how it works,” Angela was too curious to be cold now, though she was growing restless to continue their previous activities.

“Mmmm,” Moira nodded and unceremoniously affixed the metallic hoop to the interior notch, and the hoop began to give off the lightest of glows, “To create a bit of light to work with, you don’t notice it once it’s on,” Moira explained. She licked her lips and kept her attention on the toy, not looking to Angela, “Anyways, um, essentially she wired a strap-on so that any stimulation gets transferred and recreated with temporary light by the paired attachment.” She held the harness out to Angela, “You can see for yourself, if you want.”

Oh, Angela wanted. Gingerly she reached out a hand, and while she did notice the toy was now a bit warmer to the touch, she was far too distracted by the other event as her fingers wrapped around the shaft of the toy: from the glowing ring of the interior attachment a soft light spring forth, and she saw a pattern similar to that of her own grip illuminated in the air with a placement which mirrored that of her hand’s placement on the toy’s shaft.

“This is really impressive,” Angela said incredulously, running her thumb along the toy and seeing light follow suit. With a grin she used her other hand to hold the harness in place, stroking up and down the toy. She giggled as she saw light spring forth from the attachment, but more than that she was amused by Moira’s sudden cough as she grabbed the toy back from Angela. Angela just hummed, “So is she a sex toy mogul now? I bet people would pay good money for that.”

“Mmmmm,” Moira shrugged, “Good money, but not enough. These cost several thousand dollars to build.”

Several thousand?”

Moira nodded, gesturing to it, “The circuitry is very complex, I suppose? I never understood it, but I guess since it has to respond to both movement and pressure in order to get the right, uh, tightness sensation?” Moira coughed, “It . . . the tighter the receiver is, the more the wearer feels it. It costs too much to build, with all the pressure sensors and circuitry. They told her the idea was interesting but it wasn’t a feasible consumer product.” Moira smiled, “So she, uh, let me keep her prototype after she graduated.”

“And it’s safe?” Angela was getting antsy.

“Completely,” Moira nodded, “I’ve had it since college.”

“Right, then I guess I don’t have to worry we’ll break your ten thousand dollar sex toy,” Angela knew enough to sate her curiosity, and there were other things she needed Moira to sate tonight, and sooner rather than later. She wanted to lay her chin on Moira’s shoulder, to whisper in her ear, but she found herself woefully too short. Instead she stepped around Moira, running her hand lazily along the small of Moira’s back as she did so, certain she felt Moira shudder. She settled herself, still dressed only in her black satin panties, on Moira’s bedside. Laying back, propped on her elbows, she smiled mischievously at Moira, who was watching her closely, “Let’s see what it can do then.”

A flush spread across Moira’s face, but she nodded, tossing the toy unceremoniously onto the ground at Angela’s feet. It bounced a bit, and Angela saw a flash of temporary light when the toy end hit the carpet. Moira stepped toward the bed, wrestling with the buttons on her sleeves as she lowered herself onto the bed, a knee on each side of Angela’s bare thighs, a reversal from before.

“Mmmmm,” Angela hummed approvingly as she sat up, freeing her hands to help Moira. With their combined impatience they made quick work of Moira’s shirt which fluttered to the floor beside the bed. Finding Moira wearing no bra that needed to be dealt with, Angela took over at Moira’s belt while Moira turned her attention to Angela. She looped one long arm around her waist and tangled a hand in Angela’s hair to tilt her head upward coaxing her to return Moira’s hungry kiss.

Working blindly and finding herself wonderfully distracted by Moira’s probing tongue, Angela fumbled clumsily with Moira’s belt for some time, enough to earn a chuckle from Moira, before she eventually was able to find her way to Moira’s button, fly, and finally hook her fingers under Moira’s waistband. With an enthusiastic hum Angela pushed Moira’s pants down to bunch around her knees, and Moira stood, kicking off her shoes quickly and stepping out of her pants.

As Angela thought back to her dreams she had always imagined Moira in boxer briefs. Well, she’d imagined Moira wore boxer briefs, she was rarely in them for long in Angela’s dreams. She felt a certain sense of satisfaction to find she was right. When Moira finished kicking her shoes and pants to the side she turned her attention to Angela, looking down at her with an endearing, apprehensive grin as she ran a hand through her messy red hair. Angela beamed encouragingly back at her, and Moira blushed from nose to ears.

As uneasy as she might have seemed, her trepidation had its limits, and Angela inhaled sharply as Moira fell to her knees beside the bed. When she felt Moira’s fingers moving lightly up her calves she moved on cue, parting her legs and lifting her hips when Moira’s fingers danced up her thighs and hooked under the waistband of Angela’s panties. With a tug her panties were gone, joining the pile of Moira’s clothes beside the bed, and when Angela lowered her hips again she made sure to situate herself at the very edge of the bed.

It was easy enough, with Moira’s hands guiding her, to hook a knee over each of Moira’s bare, beautifully freckled shoulders, and Angela had to fight the urge to use her legs to pull Moira close as she began slowly tracing her lips up the inside of Angela’s thigh. The kisses were chaste at first, just as theirs had been, but as Moira worked herself closer to the top of Angela’s bare legs, as Angela leaned back onto her elbows instinctively, Angel felt Moira’s hot, wet tongue, felt her licking and sucking lightly at her sensitive thighs. It wasn’t long before she began to whimper, and thrust her hips lightly toward Moira, trying to coax her onward. Moira stopped her work momentarily, pressing her cheek against Angela’s bare skin as she turned her eyes upward to meet Angela’s wanting gaze. It was striking, Angela thought, how similar her expression was to that she’d had when they’d woken up together, that same almost sleepy smile as she watched Angela silently.

“Please keep going, Moira,” Angela wasn’t sure if she’d said it because she was worried they might replay that event, that somehow they would be interrupted, that she’d be worked up and kicked out. But she felt it was far more likely that she’d simply had enough of this build-up.

Moira’s breath puffed against her leg as she smiled, and she turned her attention to the opposite thigh, though this time she moved more quickly, and it wasn’t long before Angela let her head fall back, giving a low moan as she felt Moira’s warm, wet tongue pressed flatly against her entrance. She might have moaned Moira’s name, or she might have simply thought it, but Moira needed no further encouragement either way.

She wasn’t as rough or urgent as she had been with her fingers in her lab; she was slow, methodical. She wrapped her arms around Angela’s thighs, holding them in place on her shoulders as she licked a steady, languid path. She had a pattern, agonizingly unhurried and blissfully perfect: She would lay the flat of her tongue against Angela’s entrance, moving just enough to let the tip of her tongue dip teasingly into her before moving a firm, slow path through Angela’s folds. She would let the tip of her tongue flick lightly against Angela’s swollen clit, earning a whimper from her each and every time, before pressing against her clit with her lips, sucking and humming lightly for a few perfect seconds before pulling away with a last flick of her tongue to begin the whole process over again.

It was maddening, and after only a few rounds of this, each pass leaving Moira paying a bit more attention to Angela’s clit than the last, Angela found her breath was coming ragged, and she couldn’t stop herself from thrusting herself against Moira, aching for more pressure. “Moira,” She whispered huskily, and though Moira didn’t stop she did give an inquisitive hum. She continued what she was doing, which currently involved sucking lightly at Angela’s clit, but she turned her gaze upward to Angela and Angela felt there was a good chance she might come undone just then, “If—“ She huffed a bit, “If you keep doing that,” She whimpered as Moira punctuated this round with a final flick of her tongue, then pressed the flat of her tongue to her entrance again, never taking her eyes from Angela’s, “I’ll finish before I get to see—“ Angela broke off into a groan as Moira’s pattern found her back at her clit, but she got her point across well enough.

Moira sat back onto her heels, gingerly removing Angela’s trembling legs from her shoulders. Angela found it difficult to focus as she leaned on her elbows, watching Moira move to tower above the bed. She stooped down to grab the toy, speaking quietly to Angela, “How . . . did you want to actually do this?” She looked toward Angela, and her confident, lustful expression was sheepish now, “You said it was easiest on you if I’m behind you?”

Angela’s mouth was dry, but she licked her lips, simultaneously nodding and shrugging, “It seemed the most popular among the different recommendations. We can try it and see?”

Moira was nodding, and Angela forced her attention fully on the Irishwoman. She wasn’t looking at Angela anymore, having turned to the side, her attention on the harness in her hand. She took a shaky breath and ran her free hand through her hair before hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her boxer briefs, pushing them down in one smooth motion. Angela grinned; even Moira’s thighs had a light but noticeable smattering of freckles. Wasting no time, in the same motion Moira stepped into the harness. She threw a nervous glance at Angela, who looked on earnestly, and as she stood, dragging the harness up her legs as she did so, she turned fully away from Angela.

“Awwww,” Angela pouted, “That’s no fun.” She meant it, but she was laughing all the same, “Come on, Moira,” She reached out a bare foot, still trembling, trailing her toes up the back of Moira’s calf, “Let me see.”

“I look ridiculous in this thing,” Moira grunted quietly, and from the way her arms were moving, the muscles in her back flexing, the way the fabric rustled, Angela knew she was adjusting the two different attachments.

“I doubt it,” Angela said, pushing herself off the bed. She both saw and then felt Moira stiffen as she situated herself behind her, placing her hands lightly on her hips. Moira was continuing to struggle with the toy, and Angela pressed her forehead to Moira’s back, following with a chase kiss to Moira’s spine. She grinned, “Want some help?”

“N-no,” Moira grunted roughly, “It’s just hard to adjust and I haven’t done this in . . . a long time, that’s all.”

“Take your time, then,” Angela pressed another kiss to Moira’s spine, and as she rested her forehead against her again she grinned, “You should wear your lab coat less.”

“Hmmmm?”

“You have a nice ass, Moira,” Angela said simply, and when Moira laughed Angela felt the reverberations.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” She was smiling, Angela could hear it in her voice, but her tone lowered a bit as she turned her head, speaking over her shoulder, “Uh . . . if you’re ready, you can get on the bed now.”

Angela squeezed Moira’s hips as she turned back toward the bed. She’d considered, of course, sitting back on the edge of the bed, waiting for Moira to turn. She really was so very curious to see Moira like this, but she noted with some dismay that Moira kept her face turned so she could watch Angela. She should be happy, she supposed, that Moira hadn’t insisted on turning off the lights. So obediently she crawled onto Moira’s clean, little-used sheets.

She felt a little silly, and it occurred to her that in order to save Moira some embarrassment she was experiencing some herself. She didn’t mind so much, she was far too focused on quelling the pulsing heat that Moira’s tongue had stirred within her. She sat back on her heels, her back to Moira, waiting.

She heard Moira shuffling, heard the drawer of the bedside table roll open, and it took all her will not to turn around, “Forget something?”

Moira grunted, and Angela heard her rummaging for a moment before the drawer slid shut again and a small bottle of lubricant was tossed onto the bed beside her. She chuckled a bit as she felt the mattress sink as Moira climbed onto the bed beside her, “You’ve done a wonderful job, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Moira grunted again, and Angela shuddered as she felt Moira’s long fingers laid lightly over her shoulders, “Say that in ten years.” Angela bit her lip, embarrassed. How had she not even thought of . . . ? She should have done something for Moira.

But before she could turn Moira was already pushing lightly on her shoulders, nudging her onto her hands and knees, and Angela readily obliged, shifting a bit when she felt Moira’s knees guiding hers apart. Moira scooped up the bottle and Angela heard the bottle snap open, then shut again before Moira tossed it across the bed. It was an exercise in self-control to not push her hips back, try to blindly search for Moira while she listened to fabric rustle, heard Moira groan softly.

Then Moira’s hands were on her hips, and Moira’s voice was low, heavy, “Are you ready?”

“I was ready months ago,” Angela grumbled, and Moira let out a loud bark of laughter that made Angela laugh too.

“Well,” Moira said quietly, and Angela felt slick fingers parting her delicately, “I’m sorry you had to wait, but I’m here now.”

Angela held back a groan as Moira removed her fingers and she felt them replaced by the warm, soft pressure of the toy. Moira didn’t bother to hold back her own groan, and Angela remembered how even the slightest stroke of her finger along the toy had been enough to generate a response from the paired attachment. Moira was still for a moment, and Angela could hear her steadying her breaths. Soon, though, Moira’s breath picked up pace along with her movements as Moira shifted, pushing the toy forward through Angela’s folds to let it rub lightly over Angela’s clit, and they both groaned loudly. “Moira,” Angela husked, shifting her hips forward to bring the toy closer to her entrance, “Please.”

Moira’s weight shifted rapidly as she repositioned herself, her right hand holding Angela’s hip steady. Angela felt the pressure of the toy, and with a quiet gasp Moira slipped inside her, slow and shallow, barely a few centimeters, then out again. In again, deeper this time but just as slow, and out again. Moira punctuated each steady, deepening thrust with a grunt, and it dawned on Angela that she wasn’t actually worried about Angela, but that Moira had to adjust to the attachment as well. It took every bit of control Angela had to not push herself back, force Moira deep inside of her.

But her wait was not long, and both women shuddered as Moira finally pulled Angela’s hips back, thrusting deep until Angela felt Moira’s thighs against the backs of her own. Holding there, Moira leaned forward, the toy pressing down inside of Angela earning a pleased whimper, “Alright, Angela?” Moira began a slow rhythm, halfway out, then smoothly back in.

“Mmmhmmmmm,” Was all Angela said, and it came out somewhere between a whine and a moan. She bit her lip as Moira slid out again, and she matched Moira’s movements as well as she was able. The toy was a bit bigger than she was accustomed to from her own toy collection, but the night of agonizingly slow build-up had left her more than ready, “Yes, perfect, just not—“ she grunted as Moira slid back in again, “Not too rough, not to start.”

“I seem to remember,” Moira’s words were intermixed with choppy, rough breaths in time with her thrusts, “You told me I could be as rough as I wanted.” Her throaty chuckle was intensely alluring, but she heeded Angela’s request, only changing her rhythm to occasionally punctuate her movements with several rapid, deep thrusts before returning quickly to her steady pace.

Before long both women were panting heavily. Angela hoped agent quarters were as sound-proofed as the officers’ quarters as neither seemed interested in stifling their whimpers and moans which came in sequence from both women. Angela had never experienced this, knowing her lover was feeling something so similar to what she was, and when Moira hissed quietly, “God, Angela you’re so tight,” after a strong, deep thrust it was nearly enough to send Angela over the edge then and there.  

As their breath came heavier, their whimpers giving way to groans and gasps, Angela’s legs began to shake and it was all she could do to keep herself in the air for Moira, lowering herself onto her elbows and burying her face in the sheets to stifle her loud groan brought about by the sudden shift in position.

Moira, too, grunted loudly and repositioned her knees to the outside of Angela’s, but if anything her pace quickened, and Angela gave up all pretense of matching her rhythm, focusing instead of simply staying up while Moira took her roughly from behind. Moira was speaking, barely audible above Angela’s own loud gasps and moans, and she turned her face to the side to hear, “—for so long, Angela.”

Angela could see sweat glistening on her body, and knew the same could be said for her. Moira smiled when she saw Angela look to her, her lips parted and her mismatched eyes dark and hungry. Angela had never seen anything so desirable, and she doubted she ever would.  Moira paused her thrusts and with a grunt she let herself fall forward, moving her hands from grasping at Angela’s hips to the bed at either side of Angela’s shoulders, supporting herself as she bent down to place a kiss at the base of Angela’s neck. Angela felt her hot, ragged breath against her sweaty skin, and she let out a long, low groan as Moira found a new rhythm here, the toy pushing more forcefully against Angela’s front wall. Moira let out a self-satisfied chuckle, balancing her weight on one hand to reach up and push Angela’s thoroughly tangled, sweaty blonde hair away from the side of her face, and when she’d succeeded she gave a satisfied hum.

“M-Moira,” Angela whined as her body began to tremble, “Moira I’m so close, please don’t stop.”

Moira’s low laugh was maddening, but it was her words that sent Angela past the edge as she growled, “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll take care of you.” And with that there was nothing Angela could do but bury her face back into the bed as she came, clenching and relaxing in waves around Moira. While Angela could stifle her groan against the sheets Moira had no such ability and didn’t seem to try as she cried out with surprise, losing her rhythm as she bore down on Angela with rough, rapid thrusts. The thought that Moira actually felt the effect of Angela’s walls clenching as she came, that they pushed Moira closer to her own end, was intoxicating and drew another bout of indulgent moans from Angela, “God, Angela,” Moira was finishing each word with another erratic thrust, “--even better than I imagined.”

“Mmmmmph,” Angela’s mind couldn’t fully wrap around that statement yet, but it did her head in all the same, and she lifted her head from the sheets long enough to gasp out something that at least resembled, “God, Moira, I want you to come inside me, please.” And that was enough. In what way Moira was able, she did just that, with a final forceful thrust and a loud, primal groan against Angela’s back.

 


 

 

Angela had woken to the sound of squeaky shower taps, and it took her some time to remember where she was. There was nothing from her skylight or her wide windows, the only light coming from a single sliver under the closed bathroom door. Moira’s quarters. She grinned and buried her face back into the pillow which smelled of Moira.

She remembered, hazily, curling up against Moira’s side after she had rolled weakly to the side rather than put her weight onto Angela. She remembered splaying her fingers out over Moira’s bare, sweaty stomach, and she remembered the way Moira was still gasping for air, but she was smiling, they both were.

She’d grumbled a bit, yes, when she pushed the harness down her bare legs, muttering at Angela that she told her it looked ridiculous. Angela just hummed and returned her head to lay on Moira’s shoulder, and though she thought they might have cuddled, kissed, possibly even talked some, she couldn’t remember if that had happened or been a pleasant dream she had drifted into.

She hadn’t heard Moira leave the bed, but apparently she’d found her way to the shower. Angela knew she was in desperate need of one as well, and she considered with a mischievous grin interrupting Moira. When she remembered how small the agent shower stalls were, especially when one considered Moira’s height and Angela’s pregnant state, she knew no good would come of that, only injury.

She considered making breakfast, but she remembered how barren Moira’s kitchenette had been; undoubtedly Moira took her meals from the mess halls. After a few minutes she heard the shower taps again, and began to hear the sounds of Moira dressing and getting ready for the day. Angela considered if she might not just pretend to be asleep. She didn’t want to avoid Moira, not at all, but she was curious if Moira would wake her to say goodbye.  It turns out there was no use in pretending, though, as she drifted back to sleep to the sound of Moira moving about in the bathroom, comfortable and warm in Moira’s bed.

“Angela,” Moira’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, and it probably wouldn’t have been enough to rouse Angela again had she not also run her hand down Angela’s bare back. Angela blinked away her confusion, and when her eyes finally focused again Moira was sitting on the bedside next to her, fully dressed and ready to leave. The AmbiUV was on, bathing the room in a soft pink light mimicking a rising sun.

“Moira,” was all Angela could think to say for a moment, and her head felt no clearer when Moira leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her cheek. Angela groaned, pushing her meekly away, “I’m sweaty and gross.”

“Mmmmm,” Moira didn’t deny it, simply smiled, “My fault though,” she smirked as she placed another kiss on Angela’s shoulder.

“All your fault,” Angela smiled, closing her eyes and resting her head against the pillow. After a moment she sighed, “I suppose you’re leaving for work and I need to go home.”

“I am leaving for work,” Moira confirmed, “But you don’t have to leave if you don’t want. I just wanted to say goodbye before I left.”

“Sweet,” Angela said, and she meant it.

Moira asked with trepidation, “You remember what I said, right? That I’m still busy?”

Angela nodded, yawning sleepily as she opened her eyes again to watch Moira, “I remember.”

She could see Moira’s jaw clenched, and the older woman nodded, “Alright. I’ll do my best to not disappear, Angela, I promise.”

“I know you will,” Angela smiled, “Just promise me not three weeks without hearing from you again.”

“Never three weeks, I promise.”

Angela hummed appreciatively, letting her eyes fall shut again. She cleared her throat when she heard Moira rise, “Where do you think you’re going?”

She could hear Moira’s confused expression in her voice, “Work? My lab, downstairs?”

Angela tsked quietly, looking to Moira, “You promised me two more minutes tacked on at the end.”

Moira’s laugh was quiet and charming. “Mmmm, a promise is a promise, I suppose,” she was saying as Angela felt her regain her seat on the edge of the bed. Angela fell asleep again there, with Moira sitting beside her softly stroking her cheek, and when she woke again the AmbiUV was bright and Moira was gone.