Spoilers: Not for the game
Notes: This is one of those stories that I should have finished up a long time ago, but it got shoved into the WIP drawer and nearly forgotten. Then, when renay was asking for light holiday fic last month, it occurred to me that this one could almost qualify with minimal changes. I ran out of time to post it for the holidays, but it's really more of a winter story, and it's still winter in the Northern Hemisphere, right?
Metafic for "Persistance of Memory" by renay, set sometime after the end of that story, but it also stands alone; all you need to know is that we are well post game, and Paine is now employed as a maker of recording spheres.
The day outside was cold and windy, the sky leaden with a coming winter storm, but it was always Bikanel summer in Paine's workshop when the furnace was running. She mopped the sweat off her brow, then tossed the soaked-through rag onto the pile with the rest as she picked up the tongs with her other hand. Leaning toward the fire, she squinted at the white hot spheres and turned them in their molds, smoothing the seams and checking for the perfect curve. One of them was ready, and she clamped the tongs around it, lifting it free of the mold before dunking it in the bucket by the hearth. It sizzled, and she stepped back from the cloud of steam just in time. She swirled the sphere through the water, tracing a figure-eight pattern before lifting it away and gently resting it atop the pile on the table. Six more spheres glittered there, swirled with the iridescence that had become her trademark, and Paine nodded in satisfaction. This batch was coming out well. A trickle of sweat found the corner of her eye, and she scrubbed at her face with the hem of her tank top.
"How do you stand this heat?"
She almost jumped, the cloth falling from her fingers, and she turned. "The same way I always do," she replied. "By wearing as little as possible, and by making you bring me a drink every couple of hours. What took you so long?"
"Apologies." Nooj crossed the room to her, setting the fresh water bottle on the table at her right hand. The outside of the bottle was covered in a layer of frost, although beads of water were already starting to form on its neck. "The snow slowed up my trip across town. You're missing quite a display out there."
"Snow? In Luca?" Paine stepped close to him and noticed the white snowflakes sparkling in his hair. She lifted a finger to his bangs, the evidence already melting into water droplets as she brushed his hair back from his face. He touched a metal finger to her cheek, and she gasped with the shock of cold. "You're like a block of ice." She took his other hand in hers; his bare skin was only cool, but in comparison to her own superheated state, it felt as though she had buried her fingers in a snow bank. And his metal hand was even colder.
He tightened his fingers against hers and looked her up and down. "And you, like a living brand." Prosthetic fingers spanned her face, temple to chin, and she shivered as he pulled her toward him. He slid the hand down her face, her neck, her back, leaving behind trails of cold as it moved, and she placed her palms on his chest, feeling sinew and muscle through the chilled, damp fabric of his shirt. She pressed herself against him and opened her mouth as his face dropped to hers, their mouths moving together, and here he was warm, the heat of his lips, his tongue, his breath mingling with hers.
She let him push her backwards, felt the edge of the table pressing into her back, stopped. "The spheres!" she gasped as his mouth slipped off hers and down to her neck. He lifted the shirt's narrow strap and let it fall, then followed it down the curve of her now-bare shoulder, kissing her skin, licking away the sweat. With a shuddering breath, Paine exerted enough control to push them both forward without breaking the embrace, and swung them away from the table and into the center of the room.
Nooj chuckled and straightened up, lifting her fingers to his mouth. "Always thinking of your work."
Paine slipped the tip of her index finger between his lips, pressed the pad of flesh against his teeth, and he groaned. "There's three days of glassblowing on that table. I'm not giving up that much work for a quickie."
"What would you give up?" Nooj raised his eyebrow and smiled, and Paine's heart skipped yet another beat. She tugged at the laces of his shirt and pulled them free, ran her finger down his breastbone.
"I can always refire the two still in the furnace," she said, and then his shirt was off and he had pulled her top over her head and they were kissing again, her hands wound into his damp braids. They crossed the room to the windows, and Nooj spun her around, pressing her naked back against the cold glass, slick with condensation from the steam, and Paine let out another gasp.
Nooj pulled away with an amused smile. "If I'd known, I would have brought more snow inside with me."
"You've improvised well enough so far." Her hands locked behind his neck as she dove back in, capturing his lips with hers. They pressed the lengths of their bodies together, and Paine felt the hardness of him as his hips rose to meet hers. Without breaking the kiss, she sought her goal: a buckle followed by a zipper, and then his cock sprung free into her hand; she squeezed, and the resulting groan rattled the window behind her. She buried her face in his neck and smiled. He answered with a hand on her breast, the hard metal rubbing against her own hardness, and she could not hold back another sharp gasp, the cold streaking straight to her center.
His other hand was pressed hard against the window frame -- he had lost his cane, somewhere, probably when she had pushed them away from the table -- and she disentangled from him long enough to think clearly. "Can you--"
"I think so. If we turn around, and I brace myself against the wall." Nooj took her mouth again, hard, pushing her head into the glass until she heard it squeak in its frame. "Just don't stop." He rubbed his iron-hard fingers around her nipple, and smiled.
"Couldn't if I wanted to." Paine wrapped her free arm around his waist and swiveled them both, turning away from the window and against the concrete wall, pausing to push off her shorts. Pressing up tight, she let his cock go, then put her hands on his shoulders to climb him, braced her knees against the wall, and sheathed him. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, sighed as he filled her up.
His right hand came around her ass, pulling her tight against him. "Ohhh. Oh yes. I think--"
"Stop thinking," she breathed, then began to rock, coming upon her toes and pressing in, then down, in, down, again and again. His whole body tensed as she took control, let him concentrate on staying upright while she rode him, finding a rhythm that played in counterpoint to his ragged breathing. Faster and faster his breaths came; she rocked against him, rubbing herself against his hard shaft, the pressure building, tightening; with a sharp intake of breath, she sped up her motions until she could hold back no longer, and she gasped into his ear.
He spasmed, thrusting himself even deeper into her, both hands digging into her soft flesh, his hot and cold fingers sending shivers up her spine and into her core, where they met the cresting wave -- and she came, hard, her body wracked with shudders. Some instinct told her to straighten her legs, lock her knees; the soles of her feet hit the floor, and she held them both upright even as she closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into his smooth skin.
"Ah. Ahhhh." Nooj buried his face into the crown of her head, his whole body quivering with effort. "That was... good. But I need to sit down now."
Paine looked up, spied the easy chair that she kept in the corner by the fire for naps on long working nights. "See that chair? Lean on me, I'll get us over there." She slid over to Nooj's left side, let him put his arm over her shoulders, and she walked them across the room. When they arrived, she guided Nooj into the seat; he nearly fell into it, tipping his head backwards against the cushions. She grabbed several swallows of water from the bottle that Nooj had brought -- it was still cold, though slick with condensation now -- and then settled down on his lap, her arms twined around his neck.
"Thanks for the water," she said, kissing him on the nose, then the mouth.
He returned the kiss. "If this is how you thank me every time I bring a drink, perhaps I should play delivery boy more often."
She laughed, then leaned her head against his shoulder. "As long as I'm not on deadline, your assistance is more than welcome." He brought his arms around her, and she curled up against his chest, luxuriating in a state of perfect equilibrium.
This entry is also posted at http://owlmoose.dreamwidth.org/512826.html. There are currently comments on DW.