Specs: Babylon 5, John/Delenn, 6000 words
Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six
In the Academy, they'd called it the Whatcha Got game. You started off with something small. A candy bar your mom had sent in her last care package, or a pack of smokes smuggled in on furlough. Then you found someone who wanted that something small, and had something they were willing to trade. “Whatcha got for the Reeses?” you might ask, and they'd go through the list. The game was to trade up, if at all possible. A couple bottles of Grape Madness might be tasty, but was roughly equivalent to the candy. A voucher for a week off latrines, or answers to Sergeant Baker's pop quiz the next day, those would be better. Then you took your voucher or your cheat sheet, and you traded it again. And again. And again, until you had something good enough to call the game completed.
There were two cadets a year older than John, Torres and Grdinovac, who had made Whatcha Got into an art form. Each stage of the game was witnessed and carefully noted, and they competed against each other in a variety of ways. They would agree on a goal and see who could reach it first; one time, Grdinavac had started with a pack of gum and ended with Major Grant's solid gold belt buckle in less than twenty-four hours. There was a finesse required, skill in making the trades, but what worked the best was knowing who had what, and what they might want for it.
John didn't know any of that. The Centauri in the marketplace were all aliens to him, literally as well as metaphorically. Worse, most of what he would have had to trade was back in their room in the inn. He had what was in his pockets. And, he realized, on his wrist. The watch was his granddad's, and the old man had given it to John after he'd graduated from the Academy.
John shoved it up under his sleeve. He'd wait, and hopefully he wouldn't need it. Instead, he started with the change from their dinner two nights before. Eighty-two Centauri crowns, a little more than twenty Earth bucks.
Time for a game of Whatcha Got.
Delenn washed her face and hands as best she could, but there was nothing she could do about her robes. Two days climbing up and over a mountain, even a relatively short little mountain as the ones Centauri Prime possessed, had wreaked a considerable amount of damage. The bottom was muddy a good hand-length above the hem, she had ripped the seam connecting one of the arms to the shoulder, and sticky sap had practically ruined the fabric. John had ventured into the markets in hopes of finding her something else to wear, but she wasn't hopeful. He only had around eighty crowns, barely enough to buy them another meal, let alone her a new wardrobe.
Truth be told, she'd rather have food at this point. The hunger pangs in her abdomen she could deal with. The lightheadedness, the fatigue, and the way she seemed unable to follow one thought with another troubled her far more.
Whether John bought food or clothes, though, in either event they would not be able to afford a room for the night, no matter how tiny and cheap and pest-ridden an accommodation they found. Delenn worried about spending another night out-of-doors. There was a tickle deep in her chest that she didn't like the feel of at all. So far she had been able to avoid coughing in John's presence, but she wasn't sure how much longer she would last. The universe save her should he discover she might be ill.
A branch broke fifty meters to her right. Delenn froze, crouching on a rock at the side of the river. One deep breath, and she slid a hand to the handle of the dagger, just there beside her.
A few more seconds of listening, and Delenn let out her breath and sat down on the rock, releasing her grip on the dagger. Someone was moving none too quietly through the undergrowth directly toward her, sending up a flurry of birds ahead of him. John, of course. He was in many ways a very talented man, but he was not a small man, nor particularly light of foot.
Neither of them had proved capable of mimicking bird song, so when she heard rocks clatter together around ten meters away, Delenn banged a small stone against the rock she sat on. John appeared from the trees thirty seconds later, and he carried three – no, four – bulging bags as he came with a grin.
“What did you do?” she blurted. The first and really only reasonable explanation that came to her mind was that John had resorted to thievery. The last thing they needed were more people out there hunting them. But his face displayed no shame, no guilt - indeed, his grin grew even wider, and when he joined her on the rock his eyes gleamed so brightly Delenn found herself smiling helplessly in return.
“Everyone has something they want more than money.” He handed her the first of the bags. “Though I warn you. In order to get what's in that sack for two crowns and a crate of Centauri oranges, I had to kiss the booth's owner. He'd always wanted to kiss a Human.” Delenn stared and stared, not knowing where to start. John held up his hands in surrender. “Two seconds, no more than three, lips to lips, no tongue. You're still the only alien for me.” She could wait no longer, and tore into the sack.
Three dresses were inside, lovely hand-dyed Centauri fashions. Delenn carefully pulled one out to examine it. Wearing this would help her blend in much easier, even with a scarf wrapped around her head. Just as she wondered whether the scarf she had with her would match at all, she found a separate panel of fabric pinned to the dress. John leaned close: “Do you know what new style is coming from the best of the court designers? Scarves, wraps, and veils.”
Then he was taking the bag away from her and digging into another one. Food, he was pulling out food, and for a few glorious minutes everything else was forgotten. A few loaves of bread, salted fish, hard cheese, dried fruit – it all tasted wonderful. Delenn was positive she could actually feel the strength return to her limbs. After she'd torn through the first few bites, and she moved from ravenous to merely very hungry, she spared a moment to look at John. She thought he had lost some weight, though it looked good on him. Better than it did on her – the one glimpse she'd had of herself in the inn the day before, she had looked hollow-cheeked, her collarbone protruding a bit alarmingly. John's hair was tousled, his cheeks and jaw covered with a growth of whiskers – grayer than the hair on top of his head – and he was covered with dirt, yet he managed to look more handsome than ever. It wasn't fair. “Did no one ask about your appearance?” she asked. His clothes had fared better than her own, yet were still dirty and worn nonetheless.
“I told them I hitched a ride into town on a wagon carrying hides. Gave everyone a good laugh.”
“Only Centauri kids hitchhike. It's expected, even encouraged, a way for youths to broaden their horizons. But once a kid becomes a man or a woman – there's no such thing as an adolescent when it comes to the Centauri – it's seen as foolish.”
“And you wanted them to think of you in this way?”
“No, it's an idiom. It's like saying, 'you don't want to know how I got here.'”
“You know a lot about Centauri.” Delenn had to admit, she was a bit impressed.
“My dad was stationed here almost three years when I was a kid, as the chief aide to Earth's primary diplomat to the Centauri. I came to visit him a lot. Believe it or not, I used to actually be able to speak Centauri. Not well, but enough to get by. I've forgotten nearly all of it. I never had a good ear for languages.”
“And when you visited your father, were you young enough to steal rides on wagons?”
John grinned at her, and she decided it was best to not know any of the specifics of just what kinds of mischief he had gotten into as a child on Centauri Prime.
There were more treasures yet. New trousers and shirts for John, shoes for them both, makeup for her (“I didn't see a single woman without rouged cheeks and red lips, not a one. And you need new eyebrows, anyway.”), a small over-the-shoulder bag to pack up what they didn't carry on their persons. He had even secured a small netlink; she didn't want to ask what “services” he'd had to provide to get that.
“Let's get moving. I booked us a room at a hotel close to the forum.”
“John.” She couldn't help it. It seemed as though he had worked some miracle. The only answer she received to her unspoken question was a shrug of his shoulders. Then she had to concentrate on struggling through the undergrowth in this last stretch of wooded, uninhabited countryside before finally reaching the city of Arvenia.
Delenn ducked behind a tree to change. It was an awkward operation, and she was very aware of John's presence just a meter away besides. How strange, that she had been so willing just the day before to lay herself bare before him, to join with him body and soul; now the thought of him catching a glimpse of her nakedness made her unreasonably shy. She pulled on the new dress as quickly as she could, only feeling better once she was able to tie the sash around her waist.
She came around the tree winding the new scarf around her head. John stood bare-chested, shirt dangling from one hand as he poked at a scratch on his side. Delenn did her best not to stare at the overall picture as she investigated the wound. It was shallow, though whatever had caused it had definitely broken the skin. A line of red started almost near the center of his chest and snaked around to his ribs, ending in a deeper jab a few inches below his armpit. “How did you do this?” she asked.
“That's the thing, I don't remember. Maybe when I fell when we were still under the inn?” Delenn nodded absently, running a finger along the path of the scratch, on the unbroken skin just below. Her cheeks were hot, and she was aware of a strange anxiety making knots in her stomach, the meal she'd eaten too hastily now feeling like a heavy lump. “It looks as though it will heal cleanly,” she said, backing away. She stared at the ground as John pulled his shirt over his head.
They emerged near a set of docks on the river. A fisherman was tying up, and spied them coming out of the trees. His face was hard and inquisitive, but John only waved, making a show of tucking his shirt into his pants in front. The fisherman laughed so uproariously that he nearly fell into the water. John smiled at her, and she did her best to return it. Truthfully, she did not want everyone to believe they had been off in the woods fornicating like animals. Not if we haven't been, she thought, and that anxiety was back, making her sweat as though some horrible dread was looming just up ahead. But everything ahead looked safe and pastoral, and as they passed first through the markets where John had finagled all they could possibly need, Delenn watched as he received smiles, waves, and even warm embraces. “Rocky!” one Centauri shouted. “Come try this roasted meat! Bring your lovely wife along!” They could do nothing but accept, lest they risk offending the butcher.
“Rocky?” she asked in a low voice.
“I was The Rocket when I played baseball in high school. I don't know, it was the first thing that came to mind.” Delenn could swear that he was blushing.
After they sampled the roasted meat, and had another sample of braised fish, and yet another of smoked sausage, they were finally able to make their escape, albeit with a promise to return the next day. The markets gave way to a small industrial neighborhood, surrounded by a ring of small apartments, though they were well-maintained. The apartments ceded ground to houses, then finally villas. Delenn became more and more aware of how agitated she was growing. Her palms were clammy, and she couldn't seem to stop rubbing them on her new dress. Every Centauri who passed them by seemed to be looking right at her, and she found herself unable to decide whether to meet their eyes or to look away. She knew she most likely looked skittish, perhaps even as though she was hiding something. Matters were not helped once they reached the forum. Now they saw not only Centauri, but other Humans, a few Drazi, even some Minbari. Arvenia was not a large city, but it was a commercial hub, housing several different intergalactic corporations. It should have been no surprise to see members of different species here, and was in fact the cover she'd been hoping for when she'd originally made the plans, yet Delenn still found herself groping for John's hand.
“The hotel's just up this road, behind the basilica.” The road was close to proving her undoing, being quite steep and twisty, far more arduous a climb than the gravel mountain lane had been. It seemed every muscle in her body ached, and there was such a deep burn in her thighs that she had to grit her teeth against the pain. As stiff as she had been this morning, it would be twice as bad tomorrow.
As they approached the hotel, Delenn was seized with a sudden certainty that something horrible lurked just inside. It would be better to return to the woods and stay there. She stopped, and John turned to her, brow furrowed.
“What if they find us here?”
He kissed her, very gently. “You've sounded awful all day, and I heard you coughing once. You can't spend another night outside.” So he had noticed after all. “Besides, I want to sleep with you in a real bed.” His voice was light, and yet it still felt like a knife in her gut. That was what she was worried about. He would likely expect to be intimate with her tonight – after all, what now stood in their way? - and now she had plenty of time to think about it. As they continued walking, Delenn was very aware of the scratches and insect bites on her skin, the tangle of her hair, her sunburned nose.
John's tug on her hand surprised her. He pulled her away from the front doors of the hotel, an impressive four-story brick building with marble columns and a pediment. Instead, he led her around to a back alley, unlocking the door with a key he pulled out of his pocket. A moment of searching revealed a loose brick, and he tucked the key inside.
They slipped inside the hotel, taking the back stairs up to the third floor. John seemed easy and nonchalant, but Delenn could read the wary tension in the line of his back. He found their room, tapping away at the netlink until the door clicked open. Delenn just made it to the bed before her legs gave out, but she wasn't too far gone to keep an eye on John.
“You didn't rent this room, did you?”
“The housekeeper gave me the key and the code to get in.”
“And what did you give her in return?” She tried to keep any hint of accusation out of her voice, since she as yet had no claim on him. Yet for some reason the sudden image of John with a beautiful Centauri woman popped into her mind. He had been gone for a very long time, it seemed.
He sat beside her and rolled up one of his sleeves, revealing a bare arm. “My grandfather's watch,” he said. “In return, she's going to keep this room for us for as long as we need it, and bring us food in the morning when she shows up for work.”
Delenn hated herself in that moment. She was unworthy of such an act of sacrifice, and had no way to repay it. John's hand was on her face, the back of her head, and he was murmuring something to her, but she could not look at him. His hand slid up and down her back, and then he stood, going to the other side of the room. A few moments passed before she heard the sound of running water.
She felt the nervous tingle return to her stomach, but this time, it did not worry her so. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring. Considering all that had happened in the last two weeks, the many different ways her plans had been spoiled and upturned, it would not be a surprise if tomorrow ended up being her last day. Delenn decided that she did not want to die with regrets.
“Hot bath. Hurry up, because I'm next.”
His voice was light, but Delenn knew there was some effort involved in making it so. She stood, and just a few minutes sitting had served to stiffen her up. She was aware and a bit embarrassed of the way she limped toward him, but saw that he was leaning against the wall, back no longer straight at all. She paused at the door to the lavatory and rested a hand on his chest. “There's no reason why you should have to wait.” A moment for her words to sink in, and his eyes widened just a bit. Delenn couldn't help but smile. “Don't act so surprised. You would have ravaged me against that tree if you'd had the chance. And I think on the ship, as well.”
She slid her hand up, resting one finger against his lips. His eyes were dark and mischievous, and she felt desire kindle low in her belly. “Maybe,” he said lightly. “That doesn't mean you still didn't catch me off guard.”
Delenn traced his lower lip. How different this was now that she knew what his kiss felt like, knowing that she would feel it again soon. “That's no good,” she whispered. “I definitely want you on your guard.” Pleased with the way he breathed in sharply, Delenn walked past him into the steam-filled room.
He had lit a candle, and it was the only source of light in the room. Delenn hadn't realized how much she loved those small, flickering flames until she had been without in a time when she'd desperately needed one. When he finished unwinding her scarf, he stood there for a moment, holding her face in his hands. He kissed her, and Delenn felt to ask the universe for anything more than this would be selfish. This was all she needed. This was perfect.
He kissed the tip of her nose, her forehead, her temple, and then, even though she could not feel it, she knew he kissed her bone crest. And just like that, whatever residual anxiety she still carried vanished. It seemed silly that she should ever have been worried – what was there to worry about?
John undressed her with reverent hands and eyes, sliding his fingertips along each new revealed section of skin. There was nothing sexual in this moment, not even when he gently cupped one of her breasts in his hand. Though she had told him nothing of it, he seemed to intuitively know what the Shan'fal ritual entailed. She had to admit, she was glad no one from her clan was in the next room. This was their night, and theirs alone.
Now it was Delenn's turn to remove his clothing. As she unbuttoned his shirt, there was the briefest pang as she considered that she had not even watched his face while he slept, save for the minute or two on the smuggling ship. Remembering the events of that day, specifically when she returned to her own room, brought a smile to her face she couldn't quite hide.
“What?” he asked as she finished with his shirt and dropped it on the ground.
“I saw you naked once before. Or nearly naked.” The look on his face was priceless, and Delenn laughed as she unfastened his trousers.
“When was this?”
“On the smuggling ship, on the second day.” The trousers joined the shirt. Now he stood clad only in what she had seen before. Shorts. Delenn felt unreasonably proud of herself for finally remembering the word. “I came to apologize to you, but you were sleeping, only wearing these.” She slid a finger just under the waistband. His skin was very warm.
“I don't remember that.”
“I didn't wake you.” She tugged his shorts off, though she kept her eyes on his face. He had given her the same courtesy when he'd finished undressing her. This time, though, she let her fingertips linger on his hips, tracing circles. “I returned to my room.”
“And you were sleeping, and of little help. I had to take matters into my own hands.” His face then was as it had been when she'd offered to massage his back. Lustful, his eyes dark – he looked as though he wished to devour her. Delenn very much wished to be devoured. She leaned up on the tips of her toes to kiss his bottom lip, then whisper in his ear. “The water is getting cold.” She licked his lips but evaded his kiss, stepping out of his arms and into the tub.
The water was far hotter than she expected, and she drew in a breath in a hiss. “No danger of that,” John said, taking in the view. “Temp-regulated tub. This is a nice hotel.” The heat was already beginning to soak into her bones, and she was afraid if he didn't hurry up and join her, she would fall asleep without him. But first, she would enjoy the view herself. She found overly-chiseled bodies unattractive; it was rather like looking at an anatomy diagram. John was just the right mixture of hardness and softness, though it was one particular hardness that was catching her eye.
Then he was climbing in behind her, hissing a bit himself. “Oh, God, that's good.” He got himself situated, and his erection poked her in the back. The Delenn of even just ten minutes ago would probably have grown uncomfortable, or succumbed to another wave of that excruciating anxiety, or perhaps might have swooned with desire. This Delenn found herself laughing.
“So you find my penis amusing, do you?” he grumbled in her ear. Delenn nodded, giggles escaping her like bubbles surfacing in water. John wrapped his arms around her, and she turned her head to the side so he could rest his chin on top. “I don't want to poke your neck again,” she told him. He hummed in response.
They soaked, and Delenn wondered if it would be too horrible to save the actual washing parts till tomorrow. But no, she planned to taste him later, and didn't want to encounter any dirty spots. Normally the cooling water would have served as a prod to hurry up, but their water stayed nice and hot. It was difficult to finally rouse herself to find a washcloth and soap, but she managed. She had always preferred showering to bathing when it came to actually washing her body, but with John's slick body against hers, she found it hard to complain.
She washed his hair while he absentmindedly dragged a washcloth up and down her back. If she moved forward a little bit she would be straddling him, but no, there were some things she did not want to do for the first time while in a tub. She kept her distance, even though that afforded him more opportunity to sneak peeks at her breasts. While she rinsed his hair, he gave up the pretense of washing her at all, and drew circles around her nipples with his fingers. When she moved on to scrubbing his front, he continued his play, rubbing his thumb against them. Delenn intentionally skipped over his groin, ignoring his harrumph.
“Turn around so I can wash your back,” she ordered him.
“I'm not done with you.” He kneaded her breasts, and Delenn knew they were sensitive, but she'd had no idea they were that sensitive. How many different ways of touching them did he know? Now he was flicking his index finger back and forth across the nipples, making them stiffen even more, and the sensation went straight to her loins.
“John. I want to be clean, and then I want to be dry, and then I want to be in bed.” He frowned at her. Sometimes she didn't know if he was pretending to be a bit dim as part of some Human mating ritual, or if he really didn't understand her. “With you, John. I want to be in bed with you. I want to suck on parts of your body, and I want them to be clean when I do so.” Now he understood her, and hit the button to drain the tub. He helped her stand, splashing water all over the floor. They turned on the shower at the same time, and then it was every man for himself. John had a head start, which she thought was unfair. He finished washing himself, eyes on hers the whole time, while Delenn tried to wash her hair as quickly as possible, even though it would probably tangle it even worse.
She was rinsing it out, head tipped back into the spray, her eyes closed, when John went to work with a washcloth over her skin. The slightly rough texture of the fabric felt good against the bites here and there, and though the scratches stung she knew that it was necessary for them to be cleaned. Before she knew what was happening, he dropped the washcloth and stuck a soapy hand between her legs. The feel of his fingers moving against her was so surprising that Delenn gasped so hard she nearly choked on the shower spray. He found her clitoris, rubbing around it without actually touching it.
“I want to suck on parts of your body,” he said, his voice raspy. Delenn grabbed the wall for support. “I want them to be clean.” His fingers pressed against her once, twice, and her hips rocked forward to meet the third time, that was all she needed, she could already see stars...but he pulled his fingers away.
“John,” she gasped. “Please.”
“I want to be in bed.”
She stared at him as he pulled the shower head down, rinsing her off. There was a shadow of a smirk on his face. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to mount him and ride him as hard as she could. She settled for climbing out of the bath, albeit on shaky legs.
“I thought you wanted to be dry?” he asked as she marched right past the towels. She did want to be dry, but not as much as she wanted him to be inside of her, right this very second. Delenn climbed onto the bed and laid on her back, pulling her knees up, her legs spread wide. The cool air hitting her was almost too much, and she screwed her eyes shut and waited for John to join her.
A few too many seconds ticked by, and she looked for him. He was standing at the side of the bed, just looking at her. “John,” she whined, any pride she might have once had long gone. “Please, please. Now.” He climbed up beside her, leaning over her, and she grabbed for him – he only captured her hands and pinned them to the mattress above her head. She wanted to protest, but he kissed her hard. His tongue thrust into her mouth, and she could feel her pulse beat in an answering rhythm between her legs. His fingertips traced soft lines up and down her palms.
He tore his mouth away and moved to her neck. “John, I want you. Make love to me.”
“I am.” He moved down her body, releasing her hands. Delenn knew that she could move quickly, flip him to his back and take him inside before he could resist, but then his mouth closed around a nipple and she was lost. His tongue repeated all his fingers had done before, and then he suckled her until she thought she might scream. Just as she felt she could endure no more, he released her and kissed his way to the other side, to repeat the process.
Too much, it was all too much. Delenn knew that she was making sounds, tossing her head back and forth, clawing at his arms and shoulders, repeating his name, begging him. He kissed his way down to her navel, shifted so he was more squarely between her legs, and then started kissing a pathway lower.
“No,” she choked out.
His head popped up, both his hands on her thighs, pushing them farther apart. “No?” To his credit, he stopped completely, waiting for her answer. She was so aroused it was almost painful, and she was afraid of his touch. Her nerves were on fire, and it seemed she could hardly breathe. Delenn turned her head to the side and threw an arm over her face. “Don't stop, don't stop,” she whispered as a tear slipped down her cheek.
John kissed the insides of her thighs, occasionally nipping at the skin so gently it was almost another kiss. Wherever his mouth wasn't, his hands were, caressing and stroking, relaxing her. Just as she became convinced that he'd only ever meant to pay attentions to her legs, and had pulled back from the brink once again, he gently parted her outer lips, spreading her open. Her hips bucked and she cried out, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she waited for what would happen next.
“John,” she moaned, drawing his name out to three or four syllables. Still he waited. Was there a word she was supposed to say, something to allow him to continue? “Yes, John, yes, please, all right. John.” She knew she was babbling, but she didn't care. She just wanted this to end, before she shattered into a million pieces.
“Look at me,” he ordered. She shook her head. Her heart was beating so hard she worried it might break her ribs. How could she possibly look at him, see his face there, watch him touch her and kiss her and oh, she couldn't, she simply couldn't. “Delenn. Look at me. It's okay. I want to see you.”
Slowly, she lifted her head, propping herself up on her elbows. John was crouched at the foot of the bed, perched between her legs, gazing up at her with such love that it was all she could do to keep from crying. A moment just looking, of recognizing that it was the two of them together, of affirming what brought them here, and then he dipped his head and kissed her gently. Another soft kiss, and another. Delenn rested a hand on the top of his head, stroking his hair. “John,” she whispered. His eyes darted up to hers once more, and this time she read the twinkle in them quickly enough to brace herself as he licked her, one long, slow lick from bottom to top, and she gave up on looking. Back her head went, and the hand that wasn't on his head clutched hard at the sheets.
She had enough time to think John's tongue, his mouth, down there... before she was swept away. The orgasm had been a long time coming, and nearly hurt with its intensity. Delenn lost track of herself, white-hot lightning shorting everything out, sparks behind her eyes. When she came down, she realized she had a handful of John's hair in a death grip, and had managed to bite her tongue.
“I'm sorry,” she said, then realized she hadn't said it in English, so she repeated herself. Then she cracked open her eyes to look at John. He was staring at her with a mixture of amazement and arousal, and a slow smile spread over his face.
“That's one way of putting it.” Delenn put out her arms for him, and this time he didn't evade her or deny her request. She tasted herself on his lips. His hardness pressed against her thigh, insistent, and she felt so empty, needing him to fill her up. She reached for him, and she ignored the voice that told her that he was too long and too large to fit inside, it would hurt, and she especially ignored the voice that still whispered, quietly but still heard, that this was wrong, that he wasn't her kind, that she was a wicked and rebellious creature who deserved her punishment.
She reached for him, and guided him inside.
“Oh, Delenn.” He stayed right where he was, his forehead against hers, their chests flush against each other. It did hurt, but it also felt wonderful. It hurt more as he pushed inside another half-inch, but at the same time it was perfect. John began to move, slow, careful thrusts that opened her up a little wider each time, and the pain lessened some. Delenn was glad of the pain – because of it, she knew this was real. The sharp pinch each time he thrust forward cut against the exquisite pleasure, making it better. Then John angled his hips differently, catching her clitoris with his pelvic bone as he moved, and it was incredible.
It could have been horrible, and it still would have been wonderful, because it was John. He kissed her and stroked her hair, he smiled and moaned, and all the while, his eyes never left hers. “You feel so good,” he murmured. She ran a hand down his back, and even though he was in the middle of making love to her, she still felt bold as she slid her fingers over his buttocks, finally feeling that skin. She traced along the crease between his bottom and his thigh, and for whatever reason, that was the straw that broke the camel's back, as the Humans put it. His thrusts became more erratic, he buried his head against her shoulder, and then she felt his penis spasm inside, filling her with warmth, as he cried out his release.
Delenn held him, loving the feel of his weight atop her, not wanting this moment to end. But it did, and he tried to move away. “Stay, stay right here,” she said, and he did. They kissed, perfect, perfect kisses, and he shifted enough to slide a hand between them, and rub her just right. This orgasm was better, the sharp peaks rounded off, everything deeper and richer, and she could still feel him inside. He kissed away the tears on her cheeks.
Later, they lay on their sides, facing each other. Delenn ran her fingers over his face, wanting to memorize every single line. “I love you,” she whispered. Nothing she had ever said had been so true.
He smiled. He didn't need to say it back – she already knew.