mermaidtales | Fic: AOS

Words: 1200
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Pike/Number One
Summary: They weren't going to make it.
Warnings/Notes:AOS. Porn. Angst. For pikeone bingo prompt "sex: we're gonna die!"

This was one of the stupidest things she'd done in her life by most counts. It also might well be the last thing she ever did, so Number One didn't mind telling logic to fuck itself for awhile. She should be rushing to the bridge, they both should, ready to assist the command crew. Chris should be shouting at someone and she should be analyzing attack patterns.

They should be doing anything else really.

Instead they were in a supply closet all over each other like teenagers. Pike's hand tangled in her hair and the other tight on her back pushing her against him. As if she wasn't pressing against him enough on her own. The call had rung out and they both knew what it meant under the circumstances. "Red alert, all crew to battle stations..." an all too familiar call. It meant a fight they weren't likely to win. A fight they couldn't. Not with these odds, heavy damage and presumably been caught up to. Caught up to by numbers they couldn't take. They had looked to each other, both arriving at that same conclusion and both understanding with the briefest of expressions. In that moment One decided she'd rather take her last breaths selfishly as it wasn't going to make any difference.

It'd been one of those days, one of those months, and she was fed up with being proper. Tired of the missed moments and the juggling of their relationship and their work.

So she pulled Pike closer instead and she tore her lips away from his for the instant it took to breathe and no longer. The air was too cool and Chris was too warm when she pressed her lips back to his. She was going to make use of her time.

The overhead light flickered and the movement of the ship makes them stumble. A shelf dug into her back, and One barely caught her head from ramming into the metal as well. It didn't stop them, or even slow them down. Pike just pulled her tunic off as she worked open his trousers. Chris hadn't needed much convincing beyond her lips on his and her tugging him out of the hallway. He moaned as she took him in hand and shoved his pants down his hips. In a frenzy he pulled his own shirt off and pushed her hands away. He slid down her body, hands going to her trousers as his mouth lavished on the pale skin of her stomach. Her fingers twisted into his hair, trying to find a hold.

The ship shook again and they tumbled over, Pike pulling her after him as he fell back onto his ass; Number One spilling into his lap. They banged knees and elbows against floor and shelf as they rocked and scrambled to stay together. She latched onto his mouth once she was seated, letting higher thought processes turn off as they rutted against each other on the floor. She heard something clatter off the shelves. They broke apart breathless and unspoken, but in sync, both moved to fit themselves together. Number One gasped at the stretch as she took him inside, but kept moving through the discomfort. She was on the edge of a bit too dry and just fine and she really couldn't care less. The more ache the better. Pike clutched her hips and thrust hard and fast. She met his movements; riding the feelings that threatened to overwhelm her.

Sweat slicked and frantic they kept grasping at each other. One's hands twisted and tugged at Chris's hair, then left nail marks in his shoulders and arms. Each red mark proclaiming 'I'm alive. I'm still here. I exist.' Her mouth found skin and lips to kiss and bite and taste between pants and cries. If she was going to die then it would be with his taste and scent and touch surrounding her. She wasn't going to die alone. She wasn't going to let him die alone.

Everything shook again, harder this time and the cry from her mouth was one of dismay as much as it was one of passion. Number One pulled him closer, there was no closer to get, but she pulled at Chris anyway. It was too much, everything was too much and overwhelming and she still needed more. She felt desperate and needy and fearful and another pile more of things she didn't care to dwell on even if she had the time.

Pike pushed her onto her back, following in the same instant and resumed pounding into her again in the next. She still held him tight, her legs moved to wrap around his hips as she arched against him. Number One then took his mouth with singular focus, relentlessly and thoroughly committing everything to memory. He let her, his pace slowing as he gave over to her silent demands. Her hands ran over his back and chest, also mapping as they went. Over muscles and scars and through short curls, trying to catalog any minutia of Chris Pike she might not already know. Her fingers faltered and clenched too hard in their search but she kept going. Chris followed her lead, hands wandering over her body as they fell into an almost tortuously slow pace, desperately drawing out the inevitable. One shook. Each breath she took shook, her fingers, her legs, muscles cramping from fingertip to toe from their effort. They pressed their bodies together in every spot they could, settling for cheek to cheek when they couldn't keep up the kiss anymore. One fought to push everything from her mind but the present, no warning sirens, no rocking ship, no rogue objects jutting into her side or cold floor beneath her. Just Chris and her and their bodies, the ache and bliss of the sex and all the emotions they were bad at putting into words.

"Come. Come One, let go." She registered the breath against her ear more than the words.

Then Pike quickened his pace and words tumbled from his lips, but she couldn't make sense of them. She understood the meaning, that he loved her, that he was sorry, that he was hers and she was his. His hand cupped her face in time with a deep thrust and she finally broke apart, still shaking. Number One cried out, giving into orgasm as it pulsed through her sore body. Her fingers never unclenched as she saw black.

She crashed back to reality as Pike rolled off her, his own climax found sometime in the moments she missed. The sticky trail between her legs evidence enough. Her eyes were damp she realized dumbly; One wasn't quite sure when during the proceedings that had occurred. She thought Chris's eyes might be too but resisted looking. She didn't want to see.

They're both panting when One realizes that's the only noise she could hear. Just their breathing, only the ship's ever present hum.

"Chris," her voice came out rough, but the urgency evident.

"It's quiet," he understood.

Pike dragged his body to her and One let him pull her back against his chest. Curled instinctively and grasping at comfort, Chris's arm clung around her middle and they both listened to the silence.

The tension seeped out of them as a voice crackled over the ship wide intercom, "Stand down, I repeat all personal may stand down from battle stations..."

They survived.