Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10892712.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Voltron:_Legendary_Defender
  Relationship:
      Hunk/Pidge_(Voltron), Hunk_&_Pidge_|_Katie_Holt
  Character:
      Pidge_|_Katie_Holt, Hunk_(Voltron)
  Additional Tags:
      Smut, Oral, Food_mentions, Mutual_Masturbation
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-13 Words: 5375
****** Lusty Dust ******
by Brewrites
Summary
     Pidge and Hunk are on an alien soulmate planet and have been blasted
     with sex pollen. Pidge for the second time on the strange planet.
She knew what they were the second that Hunk had hit the flower wall. The same
scent, the same burning feeling where her skin met his, the same burning inside
too. She stayed as still as she could, barely breathed against him as he kept
running toward the suite. She remembered how it had worked the first time. It’s
effects were to last until she found release, or whatever the hell Allura had
called it before.
She didn't know what the effects would be with both of them blasted, but she
had a pretty good guess.
He slammed the door behind them and fumbled for the lock blindly. “I think if I
keep my eyes closed it's not bad,” he said, his voice low. “I mean, not that
it's bad per say, but between whatever that truth serum-y stuff was, and
whatever this pollen is doing to me--”
She moved her hands from his shoulders to wrapped around his mouth. She was
trying to keep Logic in play, forget his feel only suggestion, that would have
gotten them in trouble the second the flower pollen hit them. Hearing him
ramble on was only making it worse, holding onto him as she was, was only
making it worse, eyes closed or not.
“At this point, I don't think it matters,” she answered gently. “But I think
for the sake of the others we should move to a door that locks.”
“Bedroom,” he reasoned, his voice that same beautiful weak lust filled voice
from that morning. “Bedroom right now.”
That door slammed with the same ferocity, shaking the paintings on the wall and
the blinds on the windows. Only after they all stopped shaking, did Hunk try
and speak again.
“Pidge?” He asked, still holding her up by her knees around his middle. He had
never sounded so unsure. “Were you hit?” He asked.
She could feel him burning against her skin, feel the pheromone clouding her
senses, if she let it. Instead, she broke it down. Pollen, Pheromone against
her skin, but it didn't mean she had to give into it. She had dealt with it
before and she could do it again. If she closed her eyes, the wanting wasn't so
bad.
“No,” she lied. “Your big head was in the way.” The same one that smelled
deliciously brilliant, like earth and motor oil and man, his hair warm from the
sunlight, his skin soft and warm against hers as she nuzzled against him.
“You are a terrible liar,” Hunk said, “You can hide it better than I can, but
you’re covered in the pollen too.” He brushed his hand against her arm gently,
the gentle heat of his skin and the burning hot of the pollen conflicting, but
not uncomfortable, sending shivers through her.
She shut her eyes tight, finding logic in the darkness. “You don't seem
interested,” she said, trying not to inhale the aroma that was exclusively
Hunk, or feel the warmth against her skin, or the closeness of him. His denial
still stung and the truth serum as mild as it was, was still quite active. “So
I'll retreat to the bathroom once it becomes unbearable and you’ll have to get
over your innocence and rub one out for the good of everyone else.”
He laughed at that, bitter, definitely unHunk like. “You think that all I care
about is my innocence?” He asked. “No, I don't give a flying Quiznack in space
about that. It's--” His other hand rubbed up and down her exposed thigh with a
gentle firmness and he pulled himself away with hesitation. “It's losing
control,” he admitted.
She let out a short chuckle. “You are the most in control of all of us, the
most stable,” she said, forcing her hands away from his hair and his skin. They
ached to do something.
He let out a strangled sound. “Yeah, normally,” he said, “But this planet, and
the flowers and the pheromones, I just can't trust myself. The first time I ran
headfirst into a wall!” She felt his fingers trail against where the carpet
burn had been earlier in the week, but had cleared up just as nicely as the
bruise across his forehead had.
She found herself unable to control her hands any longer, returning to his
hair, her lips sinking into his neck, needing something to do, even when she
closed her eyes. The effect was only getting stronger it seemed. “I trust you,”
she breathed into his skin, zinging with the pheromone and potential. “There's
still enough Hunk in there, no matter how much truth serum or lusty dust they
use, to remember the limits.” She laughed against his skin. “Though I could
have so much fun with the truth serum,” she started, “but another time,” she
decided. “It is still your turn.”
He let out a strangled groan again as she slid down from his back. “Unless,”
she continued, “you’re into doing something mutual.” She lingered out of his
line of sight for a few long seconds, waiting.
He was so malleable under her actions and she didn't even have to touch him.
Just the way his shoulders moved slightly at her words, the potential for
anywhere his mind wanted to take it. “You should know I am very very open to
suggestions right now.”
A thought struck her from their previous encounter. “Do you think you can still
say no?” She asked. “Or a safe word?” She asked.
He shuddered gently. “I'm not sure,” he answered.
She thought of the worst thing she could think of. “So I'm thinking of inviting
Keith and Lance to take care of you. A nice spit roast, I think. Keith in the
back and Lance taking your pretty mouth until you explode untouched.”
“Pidge!” He exclaimed, pain etching his voice. “No!” He exclaimed. “And where
and how would you even know about that?” He asked, his gaze trained on the
window sill.
“Alien porn,” she answered, her lips curling into a smile. “I hacked the
projector in the living room to play it for free. I felt like I had to catch
up, since I'm the youngest and all.” She laughed. He was still too stiff, and
not in the good way. “Aliens are way more kinky than humans.”
“Pidge!” He exclaimed again, more pained. “You’re not helping.” I'm not even
looking at you and--”
“But I could be helping,” she answered, the throbbing, the heat, the need
starting to become unbearable for her as well. “What do you want me to do,
Hunk?” She asked, reaching out toward his bicep, her fingers wrapping around
gently.
In a split second, his entire posture changed. He scooped her up, his huge
hands cupping her entire ass and most of her hips, her knees wrapped around his
waist tight to him, his heat quite obvious between her legs as he slammed her
into the wall.
“Whoa!” She breathed, her eyes catching his for a brief second before he
squeezed them shut. Her heart pounded in her ears, the desire surging through
her like fire.
“Sorry,” he said, his eyes scrunched tight.
“Hey,” she said gently, bringing her hand up to his cheek, already rugged, even
though she was sure he had shaved that morning. “Just let it happen.” He licked
his lips nervously. “I'll stop you if I don't like where things are going.” His
hands were trembling, still wrapped around her. “Unless it's because you don't
think I'm old enough.”
“Pidge,” he whined and it was definitely unnatural. “It's not,” he answered.
“It's not, I promise.” He licked his lips again. “I'll tell you all about it
later.”
She took a deep breath and even that made him move against her. “Hunk,” she
said gently, brushing his hair back, making him shiver against her touch. “Open
your eyes.” He opened his eyes slowly, barely any of the earthy brown
remaining, his pupils blown. She was sure hers looked the same. “I trust you,”
she said before the undeniable lust began to overtake her too.
She kissed him hard, wrapping both of her hands around the back of his head and
into his hair, her lips harsh against him, his pushing right back. His hands
working under her skirt and her panties toward the source of unbearable heat as
he held her against the wall. She moaned into him, the first touch after the
intense anticipation better than she expected, making her want more.
He smiled against her, his hips thrusting forward, just enough to make her moan
for more. She moaned into his mouth again as he slipped a finger in as far as
it would go.
“You’re soaking,” he murmured into her neck, his voice low and vibrating
through his chest and into her. He could be reciting the periodic table of
elements and she would still be soaking wet for him. She shuddered as he pulled
that same finger out agonizingly slow, only to plunge it in deeper. She bit her
bottom lip hard as he did it again. “You’re being naughty again, Pidge.”
How could he get away with saying her name like that? Why did it feel so
exhilarating when he admonished her?
“Fuck, Hunk,” she forced out, his mouth attaching itself to her neck and the
bit of her clavicle exposed under the strap of the sundress. He pushed the
strap out of the way and she tore it off entirely, slipping her arm out and
letting it fall away. He increased the speed of his finger and his pressure
against her clavicle, most likely leaving a decent hickey there, but she didn't
care.
Everything felt amazing, especially the heat of him still brushing against her
thighs.
It was still his turn.
She shifted off of him, against her better judgement, and pulled his hand out
from under her skirt. He stared at her, his eyes still glazed as she pulled his
hand up toward her face. Even the scent of herself was intoxicating.
“It's your turn,” she reminded him, before she took that same finger into her
mouth, licking it clean. She could feel him throbbing against her, making her
throb back as he let out a small needy grunt.
“Holy Quiznack that's hot!” He exclaimed as she sucked on his finger harder,
collecting every last bit of herself and practicing for the monster she could
feel between her thighs, still hidden behind the prison of his pants. “Pidge,”
he breathed out, his other hand reaching for his pants button and
simultaneously pushing her panties aside. “I need you.” He panted.
She let out a sound of disapproval, popping his finger from her lips, and
shifting her hips more in line with his chest. “When I was drunk on space wine
did I tell you how I would have won the Junior Miss Cutie Crown if Violet
Grimsby didn't sing a tearjerker version of My Heart Will Go On?” She asked.
He stared at her with all of the reverence and confusion in the entire
universe. “I hope it wasn't your amazing oral skills.” He said, breaking into a
small laugh, his hands still holding her hips close to his chest.
She smiled a slightly crooked smile. It was nice to know that he had confidence
in her. “Definitely not, since I was six, but I think I can still knock your
pants off.”
“I would prefer you take them off, but I'll bite,” he said, actually nipping at
the part of her chest he could reach and making her skin burn for more contact.
“Turn around,” she said, “Back against the wall.” He did as she asked. “Don't
drop me, whatever happens,” she said, looking down at him, finally a little
taller than he was, of only by a few inches. He nodded and she kissed his
forehead quickly and began stretching backwards, further and further until the
room was upside down, her ankles secured against Hunk’s shoulder blades. She
curled back further, her hips arching from his chest, his hands moving slowly
with her hips, until she finally came face to face with his pants front.
Within a matter of minutes, she had his pants around his ankles, the satisfied
rumble from him, making her smile as she let out a steady breath of air against
the hidden giant. “Let me go,” she instructed.
It had been a few years, but she was sure she remembered how to stick the
landing.
He didn't argue much, just released her hips as she pushed off from his,
flipping forward and landing on her feet, looking up at him. “Those judges were
idiots,” he said, taking another step closer and kissing her hard again, his
hands on both of her cheeks, then down her shoulders, slipping the other strap
from her and then the entire dress.
Her hands worked wildly against the buttons of his shirt, resisting the urge to
rip and tear it away as she forced him back toward the bed, their lips never
disconnecting, breathing against each other, even as she practically tripped
over the dress around her ankles.
His knees buckled against the back of the bed and she forced him down, standing
over him, just about equal with the small heels on. She tossed the offending
shirt to the floor, finally free from his beautiful arms. The tent in his
shorts quite impressive.
“What do you ask of me?” She asked, wanting to feel his bare skin anywhere and
everywhere all at once. There would be time for that later.
His hands were fire against the skin of her hips as he coasted over them with
his large fingers. She could tell he was debating something from the way he
licked his lips nervously. The truth serum must have been starting to wear off.
“You, on your knees,” he said. At least he was getting straight to the point.
She had figured that though, the way he had reacted to her lips around his
finger. She sunk down to her knees, her eyes never leaving his, a small sound
of choked satisfaction behind his lips.
It was really no surprise that a blowjob was what he wanted. The way she had
teased him with the potential of it. She reached for him and he disagreed, the
denial deep in his throat. She stared at him, waiting, trying to reason out
what exactly his plan was. There were too many options to try and formulate
from that position. So she waited.
He took a deep breath and brought his hand down to himself, peeling the last
layer away. His large hand against himself made it look average sized, normal
with his proportions, but she knew better. She felt the pleasure surging
through her as he let out as gasping breath.
What was he planning?
She followed his gaze to her chest, definitely amplified by the push up bra
that gave the illusion that she had more curves than she would ever actually
grow into. It was almost cruel that Hunk was definitely a boob guy and she was
definitely lacking.
“Can I--?” He started.
She had no idea what he was going to ask, but she didn't care. “You’re asking?”
She asked. She didn't care as long as something happened eventually. If he
didn't do something eventually, she would take it into her own hands literally
and figuratively.
He swallowed a sound at the back of his throat and the curve of his lips was
like cat nip to her as his hands surged forward, squishing her amplified chest
and mostly the bra together. She swallowed back a moan as he pulled her forward
and thrust between the valley of her breasts, the tip hitting her chin for a
fraction of a second.
She couldn't help but laugh as he cringed, but didn't stop. “Sorry,” he mumbled
out.
The next few thrusts were more measured, stopping just short of her chin and
then he would fall into a comfortable rhythm and forget just long enough to
thrust too far, hitting her chin again and apologizing between the moans and
gasps that threatened to make her crumble.
As he continued, she began to notice the pattern. He would go too far, then be
hyper critical and measured in his strokes, and then relax into it again and
make the same error and apology. At that rate, she would be on her knees
forever.
The next time it happened, she was ready. He closed his eyes, his eyelashes
fluttering, when his guard dropped and his thrusts became erratic. As soon as
he did, she dropped her chin and waited.
He thrust too far and she took him into her mouth, clamping down with the
slightest of pressure around the head. His response was different. He froze,
his hands relaxing against her push ups, the rest of him springing free from
her cleavage, but she held him there for a second longer, giving an
experimental lick with her tongue.
He let out a disgruntled sigh and then a string of what sounded like curses in
a foreign language. She pulled herself off with a satisfying pop and he groaned
at the loss.
“I hope those were good curses,” she said, looking up at him. “Or at least
dirty if you didn't want to use English.” He seemed frozen still. “Can you
honestly tell me you weren't thinking about it?” She asked, leaning forward to
take him again, but he stopped her his hand wrapped around her chin.
She stared up at him, waiting for any kind of answer. “You are very naughty,
Pidge.” The lusty dust was amplifying everything, and his words made her
tremble, the anticipation only building as he pulled her up to her feet and
toward the bed, still made from that morning, sitting her next to him. “And as
much as I want you to be employed, ladies first.” She had to admit, she was
starting to hate that rule, even though she definitely understood it, and Hunk
entirely. “If you’ll let me.”
She flopped back against the pillows dramatically, no doubt sending a flurry of
the pheromone into the air. “I don't care what you do,” she answered. “Just do
something,” she pleaded staring up at the ceiling briefly. Logic was bleeding
in again.
The mattress shifted with his weight, sinking where he placed his knees on with
side of her hips. He looked down at her with a small smile, his toned arms
sinking into the pillows around her.
“Something, huh?” He asked, his voice in that soft in between of a whisper and
a normal volume, making her vibrate with potential as he smiled again. “I'm
sure I could think of something to do.”
Now he was just teasing her. Especially as he leaned down and kissed her
forehead gently. The aroma of him, the pollen everything that lingered in the
air, making it very hard to stay logical. “You’re going to have to be a little
more specific,” he whispered. “Stop shrinking and tell me what you want,
Pidge.”
The way he phrased it, the way he said it, the way the entirety of him was
surrounding her, made everything right and stoked the fire within. She gripped
the first thing she could reach, somewhere on his side.
“I want you to put that big mouth of yours to good use,” she said, trying to
breathe as normally as possible as his lips ghosted down the slope of her nose,
to the curve of her chin.
“I'm thinking a really good use of my mouth would be to put a huge hickey right
here,” he added a little pressure and she tried not to crumble any further than
she already had. “Tell those Aristophanites to suck it.” He kissed her neck
hard, and she choked back another gasp.
“Hunk!” She tried shouting at him, but it was a feeble attempt. “Start touching
my equipment!”
He chuckled against her, making everything worse in the best ways. “That's a
new one,” he said, his hand trailing down her side gently, coasting over the
lace and silk of the push up bra and further down toward her hips.
“Hunk,” she whined as his thumbs sunk under the waist of her panties and
against her hips making her see stars briefly. “Please,” she begged, his
fingers trailing down her thighs, taking the thin material with them, his lips
still otherwise occupied, trailing down to the top of her push ups.
She expected him to say something profound, or at least teasing the longer she
begged. “Chicken nuggets or Chicken Cordon Bleu?” He asked, his chin between
the valley of her well endowed bra.
“What?” She asked, the entire potential nearly petering out. Was he seriously
asking about food at that moment? “Hunk seriously?”
Was she somehow hit with more than he was and the effect had diminished from
him and not from her?
“It's relevant, I promise,” he said, kissing the top of her sternum. “You want
something quick that with satiate your desire for chicken but maybe you’ll
regret later, or something that is delicious, nutritious and you'll keep
thinking about for days?” He licked a trail from her cleavage to her clavicle
and blew gently, her skin instantly electrified from his touch. “Because I am
trying to give you Cordon Bleu and you are desperate for chicken nuggets.”
She hated when he was right.
“You know you could have used a different reference,” she said. “Like mobile vs
desktop or spaceship vs wormhole or or--”
“Shush,” he told her gently, his lips finding hers, as she raised her eyebrows
at him. He had never ever shushed her before. “I know what I said. And I really
am hungry, in case you were wondering.”
Then he nibbled down from her lips to her hips, leaving a few love bites she
was sure, but every touch was like a gentle burn, building up the Tesla coil in
her stomach again as his hands warm and soft, rubbed against her bare thighs.
She nearly lost it, the desire for him increasing exponentially as his hand
brushed against the inside of her knee, and upward, easing her knees apart.
She held her breath as his lips dipped lower, definitely thankful that Allura
had insisted that she be dekoosed, a fancy Altean word for waxed. When his
mouth finally hit her most sensitive part, she let out a sound that wasn't
entirely human. He froze for a brief second and then let out a chuckle that was
just too good.
“Breathe, Pidge,” he said, before returning his lips to her.
For being completely inexperienced, he was a quick study. She found her entire
body filled to the brink with desire and need. Her hands curled into the
blankets, her stomach tightening into a coil, the air caught in the back of her
throat in a choked sound until she had to take a shaking breath.
And then it felt too good, too much pressure, too much, all too much and she
bucked against him, gasping for air. He pulled away, his eyes catching hers
with a warmth that she couldn't begin to describe, the words caught in her
throat, the feelings that she wasn't even sure were real.
It was all the planet and its inhabitants and the stupid pheromones.
“Pidge?” He asked and she refocused her gaze on him.“Breathe, Space Cadet.” he
said gently, loosening his grip on her hips, the grip she hadn't even realized
he had.
“Space Cadet?” She asked, raising her eyebrow at him.
His small smile tore at her insides in the best ways. “Mm hm,” he answered,
“I’m sure you were trying to levitate before you crashed.”
She could feel her cheeks heating up, the pheromone still very active. For him
too, his boxers tented again.
Then an idea struck her, but she had to think of how to bring it up to him.
“Space Cadet makes me think of the Garrison,” she said gently. “I prefer
Pidge.” He laughed and she leaned forward, brushing his bangs from his forehead
gently. She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I know you’re very particular
about your ladies first rule and your food--” It definitely sounded better in
her head. “But what would you think about sharing a meal?” She asked.
Luckily, it didn't take him that long to figure out what she was asking. “I--”
he started. “I'm pretty sure I'm about to burst,” he admitted. “I wouldn't want
to--”
She grabbed his chin hard. “Hunk,” she said. “I'm not some gentle flower. This
pheromone is going to stay active until you burst, so you can either have me
help you, or you can do it yourself, but you have to overcome whatever your
hang up is.” She ruffled his bangs gently. “You’re not going to hurt me,” she
said, “Or lose control, I would punch you first.” She would do whatever was
necessary, but she didn't like the idea of him with more bruises. “What's it
going to be, Hunk?”
He nodded slowly. She leaned forward and kissed him hard, the tangy taste of
herself still on his lips and tongue, building everything up again. She moved
her hand toward the tent in his pants and freed it without any resistance from
him, a sound like a purring the back of his throat.
She slid her hand along his length and the sound only increased in the back of
his throat. He kissed her harder, his hands still around her hips.
“I think it's alright to have chicken nuggets every once in a while,” she said
against his skin, warm and still coated with the pheromone, sweet smelling and
bitter against her tongue. “If the urge is so great and just needs to be
quenched.”
He reluctantly agreed.
However many scenes she had seen with aliens and humanoids doing when she and
Hunk were attempting she had watched, it didn't mean it didn't make it less
awkward. There was something about their differing body types, her lack of
height and his large gut, that made sure they weren't in tandem, at all.
It was only frustrating her. “Hunk!” She groaned as he pulled her back to his
lips and away from her lips around him. “Less six! More nine!”
He stopped. “Am I six or nine?” He asked, the frustration coating his voice
too. “You know I'm not as flexible as you, you’re going to have to stretch
more.”
She groaned, but tried his suggestion anyway, stretching to reach. It didn't
work, and she bit back a quip about him being a supposed genius of mechanics.
Instead, she leaned forward and shifted her hips.
Forget his ladies first rule.
He groaned, the sound and frustration moving throughout his entire body. She
pulled her lips from him and waited, about to spew the thoughts she had been
thinking through their entire struggles.
“Fuck this,” he said, the frustration only making his voice deeper, more
gravelly, and sending a shiver through her as he grabbed her hips and turned
her around before she could even resist. He parked her on his thigh and sat up
to meet her. “That wasn't working,” he said, once again more timid. “Nuggeting
now, Cordon Bleu later,” he commanded, his hand slipping past her hips again
and slipping inside again.
She let out a gasp and reached for him. He growled into her neck, his motions
slow at first, and she followed his motions with her hand, slow and gentle.
“Any objections?” He asked, pulling his lips from her neck and shoulder.
She shook her head. “Who’s leading?” She asked, figuring she should ask before
she couldn't think straight. She matched his pace, watching as the small signs
of pleasure colored his face. She wanted to hear him purr again.
“Both?” He asked. “Switch?” He continued. “I honestly don't care as long as
this burning and the headache stops.”
She kissed his forehead gently. “You too?” She asked, noting the start of a
headache at the base of her skull.
He shifted his wrist against her gently, creating less friction against his
thigh under her. “I'm pretty sure it's from lack of blood flow and logical
thought,” he murmured, his lips finding any patch of her skin they could. “Or
an after effect of that truth serum.”
“Whatever the cause, I'm sure a mind blowing orgasm will take care of it,” she
said, peppering kisses down his neck and into his chest, quickening her pace
against him.
He matched her almost instantly, his satisfied sound nearly mirroring hers. His
free hand slid up her back and toward the clasp of her bra, undoing it with two
fingers.
“You’re really going to be disappointed,” she said. “Allura really outdid
herself with this one. Like--”
He crashed his lips into hers, with an intensity that had her fighting off the
growing anticipation in her stomach. “Don't tell me what to be,” he murmured in
her ear, yanking the garment from her skin and slipping it from her free arm
first.
It ended up somewhere on the floor, with their shoes and her dress and his
shirt, but she had more important concerns at the time.
It didn't take her long to reach that precipice of pleasure, his fingers, his
lips, his words just as good as last time. He seemed to be nearly there too,
his head stretched back in pleasure, his eyelids fluttering, his breath coming
out in short pants. She wanted to hold off, until he did, in a subversion of
his ladies first rule.
“Fuck, Pidge,” he forced out between gentle pants, barely even a whisper, his
fingers still working against her, her hand still matching his pace.
She lost it after that, the uncontrollable throbbing against his fingers, each
and every one of her muscles tensing up for a brief second, the air forced from
her lungs in a loud moan shout hybrid. His fingers, his skin under her, his
length under her hand were the only thing that mattered.
His release wasn't very quiet either. He throbbed under her hand, unlike how he
had before, let out another string of foreign curses followed by a moan of his
own as she came down from her own, her forehead against his shoulder.
He crashed back into the pillows, still panting, pulling her with him. They lay
there for what felt like all the time in the world and none at all.
The headache began to ease and she could breathe without the fire attacking
every cell in her body. She could lay against him, touch his skin and not be
obsessed with the surge of energy from him.
“I feel disgusting,” he panted out after several seconds of his fingers
brushing against her shoulder. Then he seemed to realize what he had said. “I
mean not because of that, that was amazing, but just um---”
“That's the pheromone,” she answered. The first time she had experienced the
same thing. “It's like the realization of what you did has hit you and you’re
wearing it and it's greasy and gritty.”
He hummed his approval. Then fidgeted under her, his hand brushing against her
other shoulder gently. “Shit!” He exclaimed gently.
She laughed. “Language, Garrett,” she admonished. “What is it?” She asked,
wondering what terrible thing could have happened to make him curse in a
language she could understand.
He seemed nervous as he shifted against her. “I tried to keep it neat, make
less of a mess, but I wasn't so successful.” She turned to look at her
shoulder, the shiny droplets looking like a constellation of their own. “I am
so sorry, Pidge,” he started.
She just shrugged. “We have to shower anyway,” she answered, still savoring the
normal warmth of his skin and not the intensely burning heat.
“You can go first,” he said.
“It will be faster if we do it together,” she answered, forcing herself up.
“Someone is going to come looking for us eventually.” She stood up and offered
him her hand. “What do you say to some Cordon Bleu and finishing this crazy
experience with a shower?”
He took her hand.
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