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Signet works through lunch, and then again through dinner. It is not often that she has time to spend in Belgard’s cockpit, and even when she is here there is always much to do. Belgard, as perhaps the most stable of the few Divines alive, is always involved in something or another in the Divine Free States. And Signet wants to help her however she can.
And if that means brushing off Belgard’s tendril that curl around her arm or ignoring the chimes that sound for meal breaks, then that’s what it means.
Signet doesn’t have time to waste on relaxation. She’ll make up for the missed meals later.
Belgard seems to disagree with Signet’s definition of waste, and a slim strap winds itself around Signet’s wrist to let her know. Relaxation is important for all minds, biological or Divine. She does not pull or demand, but she is there, and she will not let Signet forget it.
“As if I would forget,” Signet murmurs, and she looks away from the display she’s working with for long enough to relax into the interwoven cables that suspend her securely in the cockpit. She tips her head back until it rests upon another loop, and she sighs almost imperceptibly. All around her, the tendrils carefully unwind and retract until she’s almost lying on her back.
The mid-air movement never made Signet nervous, even as a young Excerpt. And now, after so long without her Divine, even after a year spent together Signet is grateful for it.
Belgard is here. She’s alive. She’s... trying to get Signet to relax, swaying the loops of cable that she’s lying in back and forth slowly.
Signet laughs quietly. “You won’t trick me into napping that easily,” she teases, and the tendrils still. Despite herself, Signet yawns. “I’m not tired,” she insists, as Belgard sparks with laughter.
She may not need to rest, but to keep working in her current state will not help anyone—least of all Belgard. Help herself, and in effect, help the fleet, Belgard reasons. Let me help you, for once. Do you remember how we used to help each other?
“Of course.” Signet reaches out, trails one hand down a spiralling tendril hanging next to her. It lights up with data, true names and strategies and those who help and need help, all at once. She lets it wash over her without a second thought, like water pouring down rocks, like her kinetic sash draped over her thighs. “Are you sure you’re up for that?”
Belgard laughs again, and the whole cockpit shivers with it. Signet shivers too, goosebumps rising under her jumpsuit on her arms and back. Oh, my Excerpt, ever-concerned for those around her. Are you certain you want this?
Signet answers the only way she can, the only way she’s ever wanted to. “Always.” It’s dim, but never completely dark inside Belgard, not now that she’s alive. Signet closes her eyes against the light and turns her head, presses her lips against the nearest cord. Belgard’s whole body hums in response; the sound is deep enough that it seems to have a physical presence.
Even after so long, Belgard is easily able to undo Signet’s flight suit. The straps that keep Signet suspended are steady and strong, in contrast to the delicate ones that tug her jumpsuit off of her shoulders and down to her waist.
She’s still lying nearly horizontal, completely supported by Belgard.
It’s just as intoxicating as she remembers.
Excerpts did not—do not—often have the ability to give up control, especially as the Divines grew fewer and fewer. Even now that some have returned, it just means that their Excerpts are busier than ever. There is so much Signet should be doing… She breathes deeply and stretches in her bonds, held aloft rather than held still. Despite herself, she giggles a little when a strap brushes across her bare torso, and she can feel Belgard smile in return.
“Are you just going to tease me all night?” At her query, Signet gets a flash of memory—her own legs spread wide, the night lit only by Belgard, being incredibly, achingly full—and a distinct sense of smugness. “Alright,” she admits. “I can’t say that sounds unpleasant.” She reaches up to brush a stray piece of hair out of her face, but Belgard beats her to it.
A cord slim enough that it’s barely more than a wire winds through her hair, pulling it back and twisting it up into a loose braid. Belgard tugs on it for just a moment, with just enough strength to let Signet know that she could pull harder.
Signet grins and lets her head loll back, offering Belgard whatever she deigned to take.
Belgard is all around her here, in a way Signet hasn’t been able to feel for far too long. She’s present in every looping cable and spark of thought, whirring with laughter and life. A tendril curls around the base of Signet’s breast, pushing under the simple sports bra she wears under her jumpsuit. The texture of it is smooth, smoother than she had expected. It wraps itself around her, cool gray material barely visible over the cup of her bra. Signet gasps a little when the tip rubs over her nipple; she can sense not only her own pleasure, but Belgard’s satisfaction comes through as well.
Belgard slides another strap under Signet’s bra on her other side, stroking over whatever skin she can reach. Signet arches her back into the touch. Her breath begins to come faster.
Raise up your arms , Belgard requests, and Signet obeys without a second thought. The two straps under her bra are joined by others almost immediately. While the original two keep working over Signet until she’s flushed to the waist and both nipples are pink and stiff, the rest of them hook under the base of her bra and pull it up over her head.
“Should I—hh—have worn something that came off more easily?”
I would remain with you no matter what you chose to wear. Belgard’s thought is accompanied by an image of Signet in one of the ridiculous coats some people on the ship used to wear around. Signet can’t help herself, she bursts out laughing. She cuts herself off abruptly with a whine when one of the tendrils pinches her nipple in a tight loop.
Distracted?
“Never from you,” Signet promises. She reaches out and grasps a cable that’s just slim enough for her fingers to meet around it. Belgard loops the rest of the cable around Signet’s wrist loosely—not tied down, but bonded together.
Maybe a little tied down.
Belgard knows what Signet wants, after all.
She unwinds her straps from Signet’s chest, leaving her Excerpt bared to the cool air of the cockpit.
“Belgard,” Signet protests, but there’s no real force behind her words. She trusts Belgard to take her time.
You look so lovely like this, They marked scars of light in pitch; born in fiercest purpose, and beheld as the signet sealed upon our pact. We’ve hardly began and look at you—all rose-pink and poppy-red.
Signet can see herself through Belgard and the image makes her flush brighter still. Belgard can access every angle within her cockpit and is unafraid to show Signet all of them. There’s a deep satisfaction in her, like sinking into a hot tub or stretching after a good work-out. She wants Signet to know how much Belgard appreciates the sight of her like this.
You’re beautiful . Belgard caresses her face with a tendril, and there’s a second when the room is so full of adoration that Signet can hardly breath. Then the rounded end of a cable pushes up against the apex of her thighs and even through the suit Signet shivers and sucks in a sudden breath. May I?
It takes more self control than Signet would like to admit for her to pull herself together enough to nod. The tethers holding her aloft shift slightly, distributing her weight more easily and stabilizing her in the center of the cockpit. She holds tight to the cable she’d grabbed onto before, and Belgard never pulls away
Belgard makes quick work of the rest of Signet’s suit and underclothes. It isn’t long at all before Signet is naked and can feel each and every one of Belgard’s cables against her skin.
The same cable from before (or at least, one with the same solid endpiece: sleek, curved metal; Signet has felt it in her before and aches to feel it again) nudges against her thigh. The metal is cool to the touch, already slick where it touches her skin.
There’s another tether that hangs low enough to brush across her sternum with a gentle vibration that she can still hardly stand. It drops lower, and Signet closes her eyes against the pressure of it on her muscle and bone.
Belgard is inexorable, she is patient and careful and such a goddamn tease sometimes. She’s using her straps to grind against Signet, pushing the metallic head of herself between Signet’s thighs and just brushing over her clit, pulling it away whenever Signet tries to thrust up into the sensation.
Not quite yet, Excerpt of mine. Just a little longer.
The vibrating strap that was pressed to her sternum trails lower, down her torso and stomach. Belgard pauses at the peak of Signet’s mound, the vibration of her almost enough to reach where Signet needs it but just a hair too weak.
Signet has never been one to beg. And yet as the cable slides over her cunt again, gathering her own wetness along with Belgard’s synthetic lube, it meets the vibrating one at the peak of its motion and it’s just enough to transfer the sensation along the entirety of it, sending vibrations straight to Signet’s core.
She whines, loud and desperate. There are strands of hair coming loose from her braid and she’s so wet that she’s got to be dripping on the floor of the cockpit and she doesn’t give a damn, not about work or the Mirage or anything but her and Belgard, here and together and alone. “Belgard, please ,” she gets out. “I need you.”
And I you . And Belgard slips the metal into Signet and begins to fuck her in earnest. The vibrating tendril has tucked itself under the hood of her clit, strong, steady vibrations rumbling from it and keeping her on a knife’s edge of coming even without Belgard inside her.
This is more than she’s had in years, more than she’s ever been able to have since Belgard had died so long ago. It’s all so much and so good and Signet comes with a shout, throwing her head back and giving in to the sensation.
Signet knows Belgard can feel her orgasm too, and she fucks Signet through it without stopping for a moment. She increases the vibrations on her Signet’s clit, and another few straps begin to rub over Signet’s breasts again. One more time for me, Signet?
There are few answers Signet can think of that would be more clear than the way she’s already pliant in Belgard’s cockpit, already panting breaths that come out half moan, already nodding even though she can barely move her head. She tips her head to one side and kisses the closest strap.
As she does so, Belgard sets the cable inside Signet to vibrate along with the one still on her clit and the dual sensations send her crashing over the edge again. Everything is vibrant light and feeling; Belgard is in her and around her all at once and Signet would do anything to be allowed to keep this feeling forever.
Signet comes back down gently, sighing and relaxing into Belgard’s tethers. She closes her eyes and murmurs, “Thank you.” Belgard is still around her, all warmth and adoration. Like sunlight on a winter day. Belgard slides the metal end of the cable out of Signet carefully and she gasps a little at the sensation.
I am able to clean up. You should sleep now.
“There’s still work to do,” Signet objects, but Belgard is already cleaning her with slow, gentle strokes and helping her back into a fresh flight suit and she is so, so tired. It would be so much easier just to keep her eyes closed, to let someone else handle just this one evening… The two of them have done so much.
They are allowed this quiet moment between each other.