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"Damn, that gasbag is good." A bit too good, Devereaux thought to herself.
The 'gasbag' was the Huragok Requires Adjustment, who along with Leaks Repaired was going from system to system overhauling every piece of hardware on the ship.And while she appreciated all the new toys they came up with, sometimes a girl wants to take care of her own ride. She was in the middle of searching in vain for any loose screws to tighten when her comms cracked something indistinct.
"Say again," Devereaux prompted. "If this is Vaz, you gotta come in person to deliver the $10 you still owe."
"Not quite," Naomi's voice piped in. "Ran into a problem while taking off the armor, can you come help? Nothing serious."
"I'll grab a can opener." What kind of problems stop a Spartan?
---
A short trip later, she rapped on Naomi's door. "Come in," she heard, slightly muffled. "Can you lock the door behind you?"
The request didn't help any concerns Devereaux was having.
She complied though, slipping inside. Naomi was still in the rig with her armor being disassembled by a few robotic arms. She looked awkward as the machines pieced away at the last leg and a half.
"Sorry to bug you but these robots get picky if I move around too much. Even if they're good boots, my legs need air sometime."
"Sure, no worries. I'll just put it on the bill. What exactly did you need?"
"We-ell, I may have went a little far with the action on Sanghelios..." Naomi gave a faint smile, probably savoring having busted into a hingehead hold along with dragging 'Telcam out of a Spectre. "Anyway, armor's fine but I think this undershirt is a bit small and got torn from me moving around too much." She nodded to her back, earning a brief beeping that might have been the robotic equivalent of a stern talking to. "Can you check?"
She wasn't wrong about the tight shirt, but Devereaux assumed that most of what the Spartans wore had to be custom made considering their usual build. "I'll take a look." She stepped around the rig, mindful of the arms and where they were stashing the armor parts. Looking at her back, she let out a low whistle. Sure enough, there was a long but thin rip. The fabric never stood a chance.
"Bad news, you're right about the tear. Good news, it's not as ripped as you are."
Naomi swore. "Another one. Can you grab me a replacement? That dresser by the bed."
Devereaux checked through drawers until she found a similar shirt. Spartan was right, everything minimal and neatly packed. She stood with the shirt a moment as the uncanning finished up. Naomi stretched once the arms had retracted, mindful of damaging anything else.
The pilot tossed her the shirt. "Want some peace to undress?"
"Nah, you can stay if you want. You've already seem me get catheterized, anything else is tame." Naomi hesitated a minute to give her the option to leave despite that, but with no objection she slid off the shirt and tossed it towards the dresser.
"Damn," Devereaux replied, still vaguely debating on if she should look away but eyes caught on all the muscle. "I know you're strong but you can leave some for the rest of the army. Crush any skulls with those biceps?"
"Oh, these are just made to order," Naomi's expression darkened for a second as her attempted banner brought her thoughts of the Spartan program and Halsey. It passed just as quickly though as she locked that back up. "Do you wanna feel?"
"I'd be lying if I said no," Devereaux admitted, stepping forward. She reached out then paused. "This isn't some low budget porn idea, is it? I'm at least medium budget."
Naomi blushed, not immediate with banter reply. "It wasn't planned or anything. But I wouldn't say no to it. Or to you."
Devereaux had been half joking and was honestly caught off guard by that. "Wow. Wow, okay. Knock a girl right off her feet, why don't you?" She didn't doubt the Spartan could and a brief look from Naomi confirmed she could do exactly that so she had to head that off. "But not just yet. You're winning me over, but what exactly would you want out of this?"
Thinking for a moment, she shrugged and the pilot tried not to stare at those broad shoulders shifting. "I don't know, to be honest. I don't know if this is just stress relief or some human contact or what you'd want, but we can always try just a night first and see?"
"Oh, Naomi. Never give an ODST something to prove." Devereaux flashed a pair of finger guns. "If we are gonna do this, I gotta know what you don't want. Any boundaries?"
Her brows furrowed for a beat as if she'd never had to think about it. "No hair-pulling. No drawing blood. I dunno."
"Sounds fair. No blood from me either. Whatever else, I'll say if I don't like it. You have to do the same, by the way; I know we're trained for compliance but you have to speak up."
Her serious tone was only mildly undercut by her intermittent thirsty glances at Naomi's muscles and bra, but she managed to pull her gaze away to lock eyes and force the Spartan to nod in agreement. "Good. Now, about those biceps?"
Naomi smirked slightly, stepping closer. Even without the armor, she easily was a head taller than the pilot. At least. And then she flexed, Devereaux nearly died right there. But first, she had to take this Spartan on a test drive.
Placing a hand at either side of the bicep, Devereaux grinned as she caressed it. "Damn. I bet you could throw a person."
Without missing a beat, Naomi shifted her arms to scoop her up into a bridal carry as Devereaux whooped. "Just to the bed, right?"
"Preferrably. Don't wanna make our slipspace drive feel inferior to Spartan Airlines." Naomi hefted her a second as if measuring the force needed, then let go and she flew the few feet onto the bed. Sitting back up with a grin, Devereaux saw her starting to take off her pants. "Hold up, save some of the unwrapping for me!" Briefly fighting with buttons, she got her shirt loosened enough to toss it over her head, running a quick hand through her dark hair after to give it some semblance of order.
Naomi had stepped out of her pants and was now in just a bra and underwear, watching expectantly for her. Standing up for a minute, Devereaux dropped her belt then shimmied until her pants were loose enough to go slack to the floor. "After you."
The Spartan hopped into bed, turning to lay on her back and stare up at her. Devereaux stepped up onto the bed, grateful that the ceiling had to be high enough to accommodate Naomi even in armor. Judging where she'd be able to reach, she stepped slightly forward then fell to her knees, straddling Naomi's hips. She leaned forward to bring them face to face. "Well, what do you want?"
"Kiss me."
The two met in the middle, Naomi clumsy at first but catching on quickly. She rested a hand on the small of her back and pulled her closer. Devereaux loved feeling that strength wrapped around her and idly marveled at the control, gentle and careful but insistent. When they parted, Naomi was panting slightly. Apparently super soldiers can get winded too. Hope the Covenant don't learn that all it takes is some intimacy. Devereaux hid the smile at the thought by moving to the side of her neck and planting slow kisses there.
"Do you mind marking?" The pilot asked.
"Go ahead. Can you- hnghh." Naomi is cut off as Devereaux starts a hickey between the shoulder and neck, just down enough that it could be half-hidden under a shirt collar.
After a moment, she pulled away from the collar to show her smirk. "Sorry, didn't quite catch that. Say again?"
Naomi flushed. "Can you..." Trailing off, she caught Devereaux's wrist with her free hand and guided the pilot's hand to her chest. Devereaux followed her lead, first palming at her tit through the bra then shifting to lightly pinch at where she could feel the nipple poking against the fabric, watching Naomi's face for confirmation that she was okay with it.
The Spartan slipped her free hand behind her own back to release the bra clasp, pulling the fabric barrier away. Devereaux brought her spare hand to Naomi's other breast, running a calloused thumb across the nipple. Naomi dropped her head back in response against the thin excuses for pillows ONI sprang for. If we make this a regular thing, I'll have to ask her to ask Osman for more pillows. Who lives like this?
Biting her lip at seeing how Naomi was reacting, Devereaux had started to listlessly grind against her midsection. She leaned back down over Naomi again, her dark hair draped across both their faces. Her breath was hot at her ear as she cooed, "So, Petty Officer, what else do you want?" She could see Naomi purse her lips as if debating what to say. "Go on."
"I want... your fingers in me. Sergeant."
Devereaux was caught off guard for half a second before recovering. "Damn, girl. Yes ma'am."
She brought one hand up to her own mouth to wet her pointer and middle finger. Maintaining eye contact, she snaked her arm back down past the chest, trimmed nails dragging lightly on the torso. Reaching the underwear, she used the drier fingers to trace what she felt to be the outline of Naomi's sex, feeling her hips buck lightly beneath her. She gave it a few more lazy circles across before slipping her hand beneath the waistband to repeat this. "Shit, you are soaked."
"It's been a while," Naomi admitted, tilting her head away in mild embarrassment. But not near as much as what she was about to feel.
Devereaux finally slipped the two fingers inside, thumb accidentally brushing at her clit. Like lightning passing through her body, Naomi's back arced, strong enough to lift both her and Devereaux off the sheets for at least a full three seconds before falling back against the bed. "Fuckin' A," the pilot marveled. "I knew I was in for a ride."
Naomi groaned, but it wasn't clear if this was in response to the comment, the action, or both. Devereaux crooked her fingers in her again but Naomi was expecting it this time and only bit her lip. Devereaux gave her a few more caresses before slipping her fingers out and proceeding to push them back in to establish a rhythm. She started slow, but soon upped the tempo. Naomi's hips followed the motion, lifting up slightly with each withdraw to chase the sensation before going back down with them.
She brought her other hand down to slide the underwear down further and gently tease at Naomi's clit while continuing. A particularly vigorous push made Naomi spasm, one hand clenching at the sheets while the other clawed at Devereaux's back. The pilot hissed, more from surprise than pain, but the hand was off her in an instant. "Oh fuck, sorry. You okay?"
"I didn't say I disliked it." Devereaux blushed for a second. "I'm changing my rule from earlier. Feel free to claw."
Naomi blinked a moment before bringing her hand to the pilot's back again and clawing experimentally. "Good. You don't have to take it easy on me though, I'm still an ODST. I can handle-" She cut off with her breath hitching as the Spartan tried again with a long raking down her back. "Fuck, Naomi. That's the good shit."
Breathing a bit heavier now, she resumed her previous pace. Every scratch made her moan. Still grinding against Naomi's midsection, Devereaux switched to one hand trying to hold down her hips (Probably only because Naomi is letting me, she thought to herself. Good luck pinning down a Spartan) while the other continued thrusting steadily, eventually adding a third finger to the action.
After a little more of this assault, Naomi tensed. "I'm c-close."
Deveraux slowed slightly, earning a needy whine in response. "Not yet. Say my name."
Naomi glared up at her, starting to roll her hips to try to catch that same fire. "Devereaux." Nothing. "Dev?" She wanted to wipe that smirk off the pilot's face. "Please. Lian?"
That did the trick and she resumed, watching Naomi the whole time. "Good. Now cum for me."
The husky tone, the transfixed gaze, and the stimulation proved too much for her. Naomi's hips arched and she cried out wordlessly before collapsing again, Devereaux nursed her through it until the Spartan reached down to the hand and withdrew it, pulling it deliberately to her mouth and sucking two of the fingers. Devereaux almost came off that alone. "God-damn."
Naomi fell back to the pillows after, panting for a few moments. Devereaux watched her, taking in the body gleaming with sweat, the rise and fall of those abs with her breathing. The sights did nothing to lessen the pulsing between her own legs.
Finally, Naomi moved closer to her. "Your turn. I want to return the favor, Lian."
"What do you want to do?"
Naomi brought a hand to either side of Devereaux's hips. "Let me eat you out," she said plaintively, sounding closer to an order than a request.
Devereaux got the feeling she was playing up the cool military robot portion of being a Spartan, but that didn't stop it from sending another spark below her belt. Nodding eagerly, she slid her underwear off, revealing how slick she was already. "How do you want to do this? Should I lay down or...?"
In answer, Naomi shifted her hands to now cupping her ass. "Hey, easy on the goods. Woah!" Devereaux yelped slightly as she was lifted, Naomi bringing her up to sit on her shoulders.
"You good up there?" Naomi put one arm to her back to prop up Devereaux.
"Best seat in the house." If she had any other witty retort, it got drowned out as Naomi licked a long strip across her.
Naomi established a rhythm after, tongue tracing letters inside her as she spelled out her name. L-I-A-N. L-I-A-N. The N's seemed to elicit the most response, probably because it was more prolonged contact.
Devereaux reached to nestle a hand in Naomi's hair before catching herself, not wanting to risk pulling her hair. Glancing around for anything to grip so high up, she settled for the ceiling itself. She used both hands planted against it to keep her balance as she ground forward against the tongue.
Already close, Naomi pausing to nip at her thighs did her in. A half-choked cry was the only warning before she came. Naomi smirked, catching what she could before gently lowering Devereaux back to the bed and laying beside her.
Devereaux brought a shaky hand up to trace the Spartan's muscles. Naomi met her eyes for a moment before getting up.
She made her way to a comm speaker at the wall, conscious of Devereaux watching her naked form and biting back any shyness. Naomi rapped her knuckles on the speaker. "Hey BB, if you're listening you better not say a word and delete any recording you have."
The AI wisely chose not to manifest or comment.
Devereaux had rolled onto her stomach to watch her. "So... how was that trial run? All stress relieved?"
"Trust me, I don't think I'm getting any stress relief with you." Naomi pretended to pause to consider it. "I suppose it was acceptable. We may have to try again later."
"Oh, fuck off." She swatted at her good-naturedly. "And come back to bed. I'll be big spoon?"