𝒻rom 𝑔eorge 𝒽arrison

she has her nose buried deep between your thighs, mouth moving lazily as she makes out with your cunt. acting like she’s got all day to please you — and she does. she’s long passed pleasuring you, now taking it upon herself to savour your very essence, the gentle whines that each measured flick of her tongue brings. a lean forearm is pressed against your lower stomach, her thumb tracing soft circles across your abdomen; each time you buck your hips, you can see how her bicep flexes when she pushes you back down onto the couch.

you reach down to run a hand through her curls, grip tightening when she sucks on your clit, then dips down to clean you up with her tongue. you tug at her hair, pulling her up towards you, and she rises to meet you only because she needs to kiss you, lips still glistening with the taste of you. though you don’t realise you’ve been crying until she wipes a thumb over your cheek, and a whimpering moan rumbles in your throat. a needy sound, a wrecked sound. ruined at her touch.

your whole body tightens like a vice when she dips her free hand down, ramming two thick fingers into your exhausted hole. a pathetic sound gurgles in your throat, a breathy sigh not far short of a strangled moan, and you grab a hold of her forearm for a mere semblance of support, quickly falling apart underneath her.

the middle of nowhere, iceland.

a team full of geniuses: geologists, rocket scientists, mathematicians, astronauts. a day full of walking, talking, digging — inspecting the long way across drekagil gorge in the bitter icelandic chill. it all seemed to be going swimmingly until the group settled down for the evening, pitching up tents and cooking up dinner.

“hey! there’s only… we’re missing a tent.”

a team full of geniuses: geologists, rocket scientists, mathematicians, astronauts — and somehow they make the mistake of underpacking. you take a look around at the campsite, and everybody seems to be stood at a tent, not-so-subtly staking their claim. unfortunately stranded, you ask to hunker down with christina, only to find out that she’s already sharing with jenni gibbons. you’re rejected several times before you, apologising profusely and blushing furiously, approach reid, who is warming his hands on a steaming flask of coffee.

“sure,” he chuckles, “you can share with me.”

—

feeling rather awkward, you prolong your evening under the guise of savouring your meal, only retreating to the tent once the sun sets and the winds start to pick up again. you find reid’s tent — a small black one lit up on the inside by a lamp — amongst the fray and unzip it.

it’s a tight fit, but reid makes room for you. you crawl inside and slip under the cover of the sleeping bag, turning away to hide from him ( and the situation you had gotten yourself into ). sure, you were both mature adults, only colleagues, but for years you had been ( much to the christina’s amusement ) pining for him.

you first met him when you were both assigned to expedition 40 almost a decade ago, but it had only gotten worse in more recent years. training was simple enough, though nasa had yet to form an effective measure for avoiding the jarring distraction that was the artemis commander. each passing brush, each gentle touch as he handed you a tool; his steady gaze as he joked and laughed about every success or mishap. no mathematical evaluation or scientific hypothesis could explain those lingering glances or fleeting touches. you’d explain to him something he knows extensively, and he’d always nod and listen. sometimes he did the same for you.

he pats his hand on your shoulder, tearing you from your running thoughts. “i was watching you. you did good today. i don’t know how you do it,” he huffs out a chuckle, “i mean, my hands are covered in cuts from the number of times i chiselled myself.”

you roll over, sitting up. “let me see.”

“oh, no, no. it’s fine, it’s not that bad,” he tries to usher you away, pulling back his hands.

you lean over him, reaching for his wrists. “no, it might get infected. let me see.”

with a sigh, he surrenders his hands to you, allowing you to turn them over and inspect them. they’re littered with several cuts and scrapes, and a long gash trailed down the length of his thumb. not deep at all, but the sight of the dried-up blood had you reaching for your bag and pulling out a first-aid kit.

you clean his hands and drape plasters over the worst of his cuts, perhaps spending a little too much time tending to his wounds. you could never be too safe! you always liked to assure yourself, though in actuality you might have just liked to coddle him a little.

“you’re shivering,” he says, and now it’s his turn to cradle your shaking hands.

“yeah,” you laugh breathily, glancing up to find your face mere inches from his. “it’s pretty cold, you know.” retreating only to hide the flushing of your face, you turn away and shuffle over to lay on your side.

“you want my jacket?”

you hum, nodding. “yeah… well, if you don’t mind.”

he shrugs off his coat and lays it on top of you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“you can be sweet sometimes,” you tease, stifling a smile.

“what? only sometimes?” he genuinely sounds offended.

“no,” you giggle, “quite often, actually. most the time.”

“damn right.” you huff out a laugh, and he rubs your shoulder before giving you one final pat. reid had always tried to be kind to people — and certainly you; he admired you thought you were a great colleague, and you had always been there for him during times he thought he might do better by giving up. being sweet to you came all too naturally.

really, he was ashamed to admit it, but he was over the moon when you came to him begging to share a tent.

you lie in silence for a while, with reid sat reading a book. he might have thought you’d fallen asleep, if not for the incessant rustling of the sleeping bag as you shiver violently. “you’re still shaking all over,” he says with a suggestive lilt, and you can practically hear his smile.

“i know,” you murmur, rolling onto your back to look up at him. he gazes down at you, the lamplight casting a gentle shadow over his features, and he lies down too. a pulse of static shocks you as his arm brushes yours for a moment, though the touch instantly soothes your shivering. “you’re so warm,” you whine, clutching at his wrist.

“come here.” he reaches out for you, offering you his arm, and you tentatively shuffle closer, resting your head on his bicep. his hand comes up to your shoulder again and pulls your body flush against him, his fingers rubbing soft circles into the back of your neck.

you lie there together, your posture particularly rigid before you’re able to settle into his warmth. he strokes his hand down the curve of your back, and you’re certain he can feel the beating of your heart drumming between where your chests met, heat quickly gathering as your whole body flushes. he turns to look at you, but you quickly push your face into his chest, grasping at his thick woollen sweater.

“what’re you hiding from?” he snickers. hand sliding up your spine, he grabs the back of your shoulder and tugs you up, his breath hot and snug against your face as he laughs at you. he’s fully aware of what he’s doing now, and you realise he’s caught onto exactly how you feel for him. of course, you’d been blushing since you set eyes on him that evening, since you first realised that you would be sleeping with him.

you grumble quietly, face hot as you pull away, perching on your knees in front of him. his face drops, but he sits up to follow you, missing the close proximity.

“i like you a lot, reid,” you confess, and he nods slowly.

his touch trails up the length of your arm. “i know.”

“but we work together,” you retort.

his eyes flicker down to your lips. “we’re sharing a tent. sleeping together.”

“—on a work trip,” you add.

he’s not listening. “can i kiss you?”

oh, fuck.

you hadn’t realised his words had slowly been drawing you closer until your lips graced his, pressing a gentle peck to his mouth. to shut him up, you hoped. to prove that he was not in control.

he wrapped his arm around your waist and you almost buckled under his touch. clutching at his chest for support, you sharply pulled away. his mouth hung open as he gazed up at you with a lopsided grin, huffing out with barely suppressed amusement.

his all-knowing look of satisfaction was really starting to aggrivate you now. hissing under your breath, you leaned in again, pushing down on his chest until his back hit the floor. he gave a gentle “mmph!” as you forced him down, which you quickly muffled with a messy kiss, desperately lapping into his mouth.

you hadn’t meant to give in so easily, but you couldn’t help it. not when he was looking at you like you were the prettiest little thing in the world; he found it almost cute how long you’d tried to hold out against your daring crush, hoping your feelings would one day subside and you’d be able to look reid in the eye. professionally, with no other sentiments ( or desires ) attached.

“you’re a —” murmuring into his mouth, you start to pull away, only for reid to catch your lips with yet another kiss. “terrible influence, commander wiseman.” another kiss, and he wraps his hand around your nape, cradling you as he gently pushes you onto your back.

“i think i’m pretty good at what i do,” he mumbles back, voice rumbling deep and melodic in his throat, practically purring as he sits back to look at his woman sprawled out underneath him. his jaw clenches and he swallows hard, hand skirting the width of your neck and pausing above your throat.

he grins down at you, and you whimper with frustration, turning away as you feel the heat radiating from his touch. he thought he’d seen it all and, in reality, he had. the sea, the sky, the stars. but the way you were looking up at him like you’d won a race you didn’t know you were running… holy shit. nothing compared. nothing at all.

“don’t stare,” you warn, barely stifling a whine when he dips his head down, his hands reaching to tug at your hair as he nestles his face in the crook of your neck.

“oh, but you do it all the time?” he grumbles indignantly, “careful. don’t make a sound.”

he presses an open-mouthed kiss against the curve of your neck, a startled moan heaving from your lips as he sharply pulls back on your hair for better access. “it’s like you want people to hear us,” he chuckles, teeth baring across your skin. “is that it? bet they can hear you all the way across camp.”

growing tired of the unfairness of his incessant teasing, you shift your leg and nudge the length of your thigh against him, grazing the tent bulging in his pants. he lets out a strangled groan, his head falling limp over your neck.

“careful,” you tease, humming with approval once he shuts up and continues kissing and licking needily at your neck as a wanton apology, grinding against the plush flesh of your thighs as he leers closer to you.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs softly, his voice cracking. he nibbles at your skin, soothing gentle bites with his tongue. “i’ve wanted you for a long time.” he shuffles up slightly, nudging the bridge of his curved nose against your cheek and inhaling deeply. “can’t believe what i’ve gotten myself into."

another little sound, barely stifled, escapes you as he presses his hips flush against yours, a breathy sigh, and he continues kissing you just to silence himself. he would surely have been rambling otherwise, maundering on about how lovely you are and how lucky he is to finally have you — to take you. but he can’t have you right now — not just yet. a pretty little thing like you was made to be loved, spoiled, savoured, enjoyed.

( that, and he was worried you might catch a cold. )

but god damn it he had waited so long. for this, for you… throughout many years of maintaining a clean professional front, the lingering handshakes, nervous glances. to everybody else, you were merely the reliable technician and the artemis ii commander reid wiseman. friends, colleagues, all but cordial.

inside the tent, however, those walls quickly crumbled down. it was just you and him, hot and panting and woozy, legs tangled together in the sleeping bag and fingers entwined as one.

his free hand trails down the length of your body almost reverently, as if imprinting each curve and groove and imperfection to mind. he curls his hand around your waist, lifting your body up towards him. when he kisses you again, he shudders, then retires his head into the crook of your neck.

“are you cold..?” you tilt your chin down to murmur into his ear, giving his hand a squeeze. he grunts with denial, wrapping his arm around the small of your back. “you’re shaking.”

he gives a gentle hum in response, burrowing his face deeper into your warmth. “so are you.”

with a hoarse sigh, he pushes himself off you and flops onto his back, pulling you close to his side. “y-you are —” he gawks, quite easily as a loss for words as he tilts his head down to look at you, your sleepy and worn-out face. you’re both still shaking, trying to catch your breath. he laughs, “i don’t even know what just happened. goodness, you’re wonderful.”

you giggle, sliding your hand up his shirt. his chest is hot, heart still drumming against his ribcage. “so are you,” you echo, kicking your knee up to rest across his lap. his hand wraps around your waist, lingering on your hip.

reid clears his throat.

“soooo,” he starts, suddenly nervous, “what does all this mean?”

“we can discuss that over dinner,” you suggest, lifting your head up to look him in the eye.

he pats your hair, urging you to lay back down. “okay, okay.”

“long day tomorrow,” you murmur, and he nods in agreement. you should sleep.

so you do, quickly drifting off in his comfortable arms.

—

and you don’t wake up until the early morning sun filters through the thin dark fabric of the tent, the sound of the zipper tearing open has you quickly peeling yourself away from reid’s warmth. reid lets out a disgruntled groan as christina peers inside and reaches forward to tug at your foot, jostling you.

she says something incoherent to you, your senses still hazy with sleep. you rub at your eyes and reid stretches out beside you with a loud yawn.

“huh?” you and reid mutter in unison.

“oh, look at you two! you like a married couple,” she laughs, mostly at your bewildered expression, but she’s not joking at all. “they found another tent. jeremy had it all along.”

you and reid share a glance then, with a frustrated whine, fall back against the sleeping bag.