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“I couldn’t, milady,” the knight says, suddenly feeling the weight of her armor ten times more. It protects her so well from the blades of those who would do her mistress harm, but it is useless for keeping her safe from this metaphorical piercing of her heart. “You are my charge, and—”
“And nothing!” her lady interrupts. “If you are truly in my service, then…”
She places one dainty finger upon the knight’s chin, then leans in close.
“Then I command you to serve.”
❦
Margaret Nearl feels heat rising in her cheeks and struggles to suppress a shudder as she turns the page. She is usually quite comfortable in the company of others, but as she indulges in one of her very few guilty pleasures, she is glad to be alone.
“Goodness,” she breathes to the empty lounge.
Or at least, it was empty a second ago.
Her attention is pulled from her ‘literature’ by the sound of the door clicking shut. She hadn’t even heard it open, but as she flicks her gaze upward, she sees Operator Gravel, in a tank top and lounge pants, leaning against it and watching her intently.
“Gravel!” she says, unsuccessfully hiding her startle response. She snaps her book shut and tucks it between her thigh and the arm of the couch, hopefully keeping it out of view. The last thing Margaret wants is a reputation for being a smuthound. “I-I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Mmm, yeah, sorry. I’m kinda quiet. It’s habit,” Gravel says, smiling gently. “Hope I didn’t scare you, Miss Nearl. And I hope you don’t mind me joining you in here?”
“No, not at all,” Nearl replies, relaxing a little. “It’s a public lounge, after all. You’re just as welcome as I am, and it’s not like there isn’t enough space.”
She casts her gaze around at the chairs, couches, and cushions spread around the room. It could comfortably seat at least a dozen.
“You needn’t call me ‘Miss’, either. Just ‘Nearl’ is fine.”
Gravel pushes off the door and, rather than grabbing a chair for herself, crosses the room to join Nearl on the couch. She sits close enough that she can feel the Zalak’s shoulder against hers, Gravel’s right leg brushing her own left. She smells like soap and a hint of floral perfume, like she’s fresh from the bath.
Margaret swallows hard and tries not to squirm.
“Thanks, but it feels so strange to just call you ‘Nearl’. Being from Kazimierz, I know a few Nearls!” Gravel says cheerily, seemingly unbothered by their closeness. It looks like she doesn’t think much of the concept of personal space. Nearl’s always seen the way Gravel tends to hang on the Doctor, but she thought that behavior was unique to those two.
Apparently not. Gravel scoots a little closer.
“Miss Nearl makes it clear who I’m talking to, you know?”
Margaret smiles faintly. She’s also the only Nearl at Rhodes Island right now, but Gravel seems firm on this.
“Point taken. Margaret, then?”
“Margaret…” Gravel says, as though testing how it feels in her mouth. “It’s a very pretty name.”
“Thank you,” Margaret says, for lack of anything better. She clears her throat. “So…”
“Mmm?” Gravel hums, looking at her. Her face is…very close. She frowns. “What’s up? Are you feeling okay? You look kind of warm.”
To Nearl’s surprise, Gravel reaches up with one hand, placing the back of it against Nearl’s forehead. She flinches, but doesn’t pull away completely.
“Yeah, you’re really warm. You’re not getting sick, are you?” she asks, her voice soft and concerned, and the whole situation is so profoundly strange that Margaret isn’t quite sure how to react. Especially with her earlier reading having primed her to feel…a certain sort of way.
“N-No, I’m fine, I’m alright, just…”
“Just…?” Gravel asks, sweetly. Innocently, even. She’s just being affectionate. That’s just how she is. Nearl has no right to project her increasingly dirty suspicions onto her. She takes a breath.
“Just, nothing. I’m alright, Gravel, I promise.”
“Mmm. If that changes, let me know. I’m happy to help you however I can, Miss Margaret,” she says, flashing a winsome smile.
Gravel looks away, but stays just as close. In fact, she almost sort of…snuggles in, leaning against Margaret a little more, her back against Nearl’s arm. Her hair falls over Nearl’s shoulder and tickles her cheek as she pulls a smartphone out of her pocket and begins to flip through the Rhodes Island intranet. It’s not…unpleasant, per se. It’s certainly more familiar than Nearl expected tonight, by several orders of magnitude, but there doesn’t seem to be any way to delicately extricate herself without being rude. So she takes a breath and tries to relax, now that Gravel’s attention is on something else.
Or so she thinks.
“So, what were you reading?” Gravel asks, without looking up from her phone. Nearl’s glad for that, because at the question, her face goes a shade of red that would make Flametail look blonde. “Is it good? Can I see?”
“Y—Uh, I…” Nearl stammers. “Sorry, no, I mean, it’s fine. It’s alright. Just something to kill time. But not likely something you’d care for.”
Gravel is silent for a moment, and Nearl can hear her heart pounding in her ears.
“Oh. Well, you can keep reading; I hope I’m not distracting you too much,” Gravel says, tilting her head back a little, and Nearl feels tension bleed out of her when she doesn’t press for more information.
“No, it’s fine, I…was actually just done with it,” Nearl lies. She still wants to keep it tucked away until Gravel leaves.
“Really? You looked like you were only about halfway through.”
Nearl bites her lip. God, Gravel is perceptive. She’s also very warm, and smells nice, and she’s very close, and…
Her cock twitches between her legs, and shame rushes through her immediately. It’s been so long since she’s done anything, and having a pretty girl leaning against her after reading a steamy novel is not helpful. She squirms, and then Gravel makes it worse.
“Is it something dirty?” she asks, like she’s discussing the weather. Nearl’s heart skips a beat, but she doesn’t know how to reply. And she apparently stays silent for too long in her panic.
“Oh, is that why you’re acting strange?” Gravel continues, turning her head enough to catch Nearl’s gaze. Nearl looks away quickly, but she can hear the smile in Gravel’s voice. “Miss Margaret, did I interrupt some private time?”
“No!” she says, too quickly. Margaret looks back down at Gravel and sees the mischief dancing in her eyes. “No, it’s not—"
“Oh,” Gravel says, in a tone that Nearl can only interpret as a purr. She shifts, turns so she can look at Nearl properly. “I have to admit, I didn’t take you for the type to do that in public.”
Nearl begins to stutter out a response, another denial mixed with an apology. But Gravel doesn’t look offended. Far from it. She’s smiling again, her eyes half-lidded, and she sets her phone aside, then rests her hand halfway up Margaret’s thigh. And given that Margaret’s wearing a pair of track shorts, that puts her on bare skin. Her touch is warm, and it raises goosebumps when Gravel strokes her thumb back and forth, the tips of her fingers teasing at the hem of the shorts, playing with the fabric.
“Can you forgive me, Miss Margaret?” Gravel asks, leaning in close enough that Nearl can feel the exhalation against her lips. “I’ll make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”
“I…”
She should say no. They’re in public. It’s late, but someone could come in at any time. There certainly are dozens of reasons that she should gently, but firmly, push Gravel away from her.
Oddly enough, she can’t recall most of them.
“Someone might…” she whispers, but Gravel reaches up with her left hand and puts her index finger on Nearl’s lips, then traces them with the tip.
“No, they won’t.”
“How do you know?” Nearl asks, trying to restrain the urge to do something untoward to that finger.
“Because I locked the door when I came in.”
“You—”
But before Nearl can protest, before she can examine the implications of Gravel having already locked the door, her lips are occupied by Gravel’s own. Her kiss is sweet and warm and full and desperate, and Nearl lets her eyes flutter closed to better focus on it. She lets her worries and her anxieties slip away and be replaced by thoughts of how it feels when Gravel tightens her grip on her thigh.
They continue to kiss for what feels like several minutes, Gravel groaning softly into Nearl’s mouth now and then, her free hand moving to the back of Nearl’s neck to tease at the fine hairs there. Both hands grasp Margaret almost possessively, and she feels blood begin to rush between her legs.
“Gravel,” she says, breaking their kiss reluctantly. “Are you sure this is—”
“Hush, Miss Margaret,” she says softly. “Call me Senomy.”
Her heart somersaults in her chest. She hadn’t known Gravel’s real name. To her knowledge, nobody at Rhodes Island does. She knows it’s a secret that’s dear to her.
“Very well, Senomy,” she says, and she kisses her again, smiling against her lips.
“I really like how it sounds on your tongue,” she whispers. Her hands come off of Margaret, and while she misses them for a moment, she finds that she’s quite pleased about what Senomy is doing with them instead.
The Zalak reaches down and pulls her own tank top up and off in one smooth motion, tossing it aside and revealing that she’s not wearing a bra. When she lifts herself briefly off the couch and tugs off her pants as well, she makes it clear that she’s actually wearing no undergarments at all. Nearl wonders idly if that’s usually the case, or if Senomy came to her with some sort of intent.
She lets her eyes trace over the woman’s taut muscles and many scars, feeling like she shouldn’t stare too much—despite the inherent ridiculousness of the thought. The woman just stripped her clothes off for her. Clearly, she wants to be seen.
“Do you think I’m pretty, Miss Margaret?” Senomy asks, as though in answer to her unspoken worry, slipping her hand down to Nearl’s thigh again. But this time, she doesn’t stop there. She dips down further, between Nearl’s legs, and lets her fingers find her obviously-stiff cock. Margaret bites back a groan. Senomy giggles.
“I guess you do, huh?” she says, teasing her fingers along it through her shorts.
“Pretty is an understatement,” Margaret says, gasping as Senomy strokes her a little more firmly.
“Take your shirt off,” Senomy orders, and Margaret is only too happy to comply. She whips her tee shirt up and over her head, heedless of where it falls, and her bra follows soon after. Immediately, the hand that Senomy isn’t using on her cock comes up to her chest, coasting across the swell of Nearl’s breasts, nails grazing her nipples lightly and making her gasp.
“You’re flawless, Miss Margaret,” Senomy says, sounding almost reverent. "I feel so lucky to even get to touch you like this.”
Her hand comes up from between Nearl’s legs and slips into the waistband of her shorts, beneath her panties, to tease her properly and make her whimper in delight.
“I’ve touched myself thinking about you, you know,” Senomy continues, leaning forward and pressing kisses to Nearl’s neck. They’re quicker, little darting pecks, before Senomy finishes with one last, long one, then bites down hard enough to leave a mark. Margaret cries out in pain, pleasure, and surprise all together.
“More than once.”
“That’s…” Margaret begins, breathing heavily, eyes wide, not sure how to reply. Senomy laughs.
“You don’t have to say anything. Let me take care of you. You’re incredible. You deserve it, Miss Margaret.”
She pulls her hands away and slips down off the couch, to the floor, never breaking eye contact with Nearl as she does. She reaches up and hooks her fingers into the waistband of Nearl’s shorts, tugging them down and off, leaving her in just her panties.
Margaret flushes, a bit embarrassed about both her near-painful hardness and the very obvious wet spot on the cloth, but Senomy’s eyes sparkle. She nudges Margaret’s legs apart and pushes forward between them. Then, she leans in, puts her lips to that same spot, and gives one small, delicate kiss, flicking her tongue against it. It…might be one of the most erotic things Nearl has ever seen, and her breath comes shuddery as she does.
The feeling of Senomy’s hair against her inner thighs is intoxicating, and she slips the fingers of one hand through those pink locks, teasing behind one of her ears. Senomy giggles again, nuzzling Nearl’s cock through her panties and kissing her several more times.
“You can touch me however you want, you know. I’m yours, Miss Margaret,” she teases, her breath hot on Nearl’s prick.
“Senomy…”
“It’s the least I can do for interrupting your reading,” she says, then licks the cotton cloth long and slow. Nearl lets out a strangled groan.
“Teasing me…” she says, trying her best to sound offended. Like she doesn’t enjoy that as much as she does. Senomy smiles, sliding one finger into the front of Nearl’s panties and pulling them aside. She doesn’t take them off, merely tugs them out of the way enough to let Margaret’s cock free.
Without hesitation, she kisses the base, licks from there to the tip, and spends her time working her mouth along every square inch she can reach. A gentle hand teases at Margaret’s sac, easy brushes from her nails making her shiver in delight. She presses her lips to the underside of the prick once again, and then just under the head. Margaret is throbbing, she needs more, but before she can ask, Senomy anticipates.
She leans up, kisses the tip of Nearl’s cock, and then without a word, takes her entire length into her mouth and throat. She gags ever so slightly, but she doesn’t pull back, and Margaret nearly cums right then and there. Senomy’s warm, wet mouth envelops her, she bobs ever so slightly, and hums around her as she does.
“God, fuck,” Nearl growls, closing her eyes, trying to hold back, and tightening her hand in Senomy’s hair. “You can’t do that, or—”
Senomy pulls off of her just as smoothly, takes a breath to recover, and laughs.
“Or you’ll do what, Miss Margaret. Give me exactly what I want?” she asks, kissing the tip again. Nearl shivers.
“You’re gorgeous, Miss Margaret,” Senomy continues, idly trailing one finger up and down the side of Nearl’s cock. “I’m so, so happy.”
She sounds it, too; Senomy sounds overjoyed, excited, like a pot about to bubble over. Even more so when she asks:
“Can I ride you?”
“O-Of course,” Margaret says quickly. In truth, there’s little in the world that she’d like more, and she’s a little perplexed that Senomy is asking now.
“Are you sure, Miss Margaret? Can you tell me you want me to? Pretty please?”
Senomy pouts up at her, and Margaret laughs, a bit unsteadily, figuring she can play along.
“I want you to ride me, Senomy,” she says, with all the authority she can muster. At that, Senomy beams at her. She gives Margaret’s cock one final kiss before standing up—in the process, letting Margaret see that she is noticeably wet—and straddling her lap.
In that moment, a realization hits her like a bolt from the blue.
Protection.
“Senomy, do you have a—” she begins, but Senomy leans forward and kisses her, silencing her immediately. She puts her hand on the back of Nearl’s neck again, and another on her shoulder, then breaks the kiss and rests her forehead against Margaret’s.
“Hush,” she says. Just that. Margaret relaxes. Senomy’s probably on some sort of medication for it.
“Okay,” she says. “Just checking.”
“So conscientious. Just another reason to adore you, valiant Miss Margaret,” she says, batting her lashes coquettishly. And with that, she leans back, slips down, and takes Nearl’s cock inside her with a gasp.
Nearl moans aloud, her hands going to Senomy’s hips and gripping tight. Senomy’s fingers tighten as well, nails digging lightly into her skin.
“Senomy,” Nearl gasps, and Senomy laughs in reply.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” she asks, shifting her hips. “Do you like it, Miss Margaret? Do I feel nice?”
“Yes, yes absolutely,” she says, and Senomy kisses her again, starting to move in earnest. She takes her hand off the back of Nearl’s neck and goes between her legs, touching herself as she rides her. Their gasps weave together, their moans, their cries. Margaret tries her very, very best to hold back, but she knows that with the way Senomy moves, she won’t last long.
She becomes doubly sure of that as Senomy leans forward and bites at her neck again, kisses her there again, as she can feel Senomy’s ragged breathing.
“S-Senomy,” she gasps. “I’m…god, I’m getting close.”
“Yeah? Yeah, okay,” Senomy says, breathless. “Me too. Can you cum for me, Margaret? Pretty please?”
“I…” she says, gritting her teeth. But then she feels Senomy clenching around her—not just her inner walls, but her whole body. She whimpers, her legs tightening against Margaret’s, her fingers digging into Margaret’s shoulder, her muscles tensing. It’s too much for Nearl to take, and so she falls over the edge as well.
It’s explosive. Margaret doesn’t think she’s ever cum so hard in her life, and Senomy coaxes her through it the whole way.
She can feel Senomy still moving, milking her dry, murmuring encouragement to her, kissing her gently.
“That’s good, Margaret, that’s so good. You’re doing so well, give me everything, every bit of you.”
Nearl isn’t sure how long she just sits there, basking in the afterglow with Senomy still atop her, resting on her, her face buried in Nearl’s neck, but she takes a deep breath and gets her attention.
“Senomy?”
“Mm?” she asks, humming against Nearl’s skin.
“You are on something, right? To keep yourself from…” She struggles with how to put it delicately. “From unintended consequences of sleeping together?”
“Oh! That.”
“Yes. That.”
“No, I’m not. Nothing at all.”
Nearl feels anxiety spike through her chest. Senomy holds her tighter.
“You’re not? But you said—”
“No, I didn’t, Miss Margaret,” Senomy says, laughter threading through her words. “I told you to hush. That was all.”
She pauses.
“If you need proof, my phone’s voice recorder has been capturing every word we said since I sat it down. In case you—or anyone else—says otherwise.”
Margaret feels a little dizzy, and a little ill. Recorded? Every word? Why?
“That’s risky, Senomy, you should have told me. What if today wasn’t a safe day?”
“I was hoping it wasn’t, actually.”
“What?”
“It’s a win-win, Margaret,” Senomy says casually. “Either you didn’t knock me up, and you and I just had a very fun evening together, or you did, and I’ve secured myself a future tied to the Radiant Knight of Kazimierz. You said ‘unintended consequences’, but…they wouldn’t be unintended at all.”
That hangs in the air for a moment, Nearl being rendered utterly speechless.
Eventually she clears her throat.
“You…thought this through then.”
Now she understands why Senomy recorded it all. In case Nearl tries to deny her part in any of this. Or even act like she participated with anything less than complete enthusiasm.
“I did. But, really, can you say you didn’t like it? Wasn’t it fun?”
Senomy wiggles her hips illustratively, and Margaret chokes on her response.
“W-Well. Yes, it was. But you should have told me.”
“Are you angry?”
“Yes.”
“Are you angry enough that we won’t be doing this again?” she asks, reaching up and trailing a finger down Nearl’s cheek teasingly. “Miss Margaret?”
She considers that for a moment, taking a deep breath in and out before she answers. She’s definitely angry, and Senomy definitely lied to her, and this could be absolutely disastrous for her. But at the same time…
“…Maybe.”
Senomy laughs again.
“I’ll take it,” she says, sounding cheerful. “Why don’t we throw our clothes on and go back to my room, hmm? You can keep thinking about it while we shower off.”
“You’re being awfully presumptive,” Nearl says with a frown. “How do I know you aren’t up to something else?”
“You don’t,” Senomy replies, and then she adds:
“That’s part of the fun.”