TVU 807 Genre Swap: Farscape Fanfic (NC17)
Scrubbing Up Nicely (NC-17)
These notes are a bit ‘Meta’ so bear with me: Written for TVU Challenge ‘Genre Swap’ on Livejournal. The challenge was to imagine our show as having been a different genre, and we (Vinegardog, Shermel, Strangewebby and myself) imagined our show, Farscape, as Sword And Sorcery. Within the challenge a subchallenge was to write a fanfic of a scene the fans wanted to see or thought should have happened. Hence this fic, and its very NC-17 rating. A reimagining of the ‘Meet Cute’ to fit the genre swap and to include all the smut you would expect from a fanfic.
The red wash cloth is a reference to and revenge upon The Hated Red Blanket Of Censorship which intrudes on so many of the hottest John/Aeryn moments on the show.
Acknowledgements: Many ideas in this fic came from the other members of my team. I’d also like to thank Shermel and Vinegardog for bravely and very effectively beta-ing this - not any easy task to do for a smutfic.
Warnings: Minor spoilers and major gratuitous smut.
Disclaimer: Not mine, more’s the pity, and no money is being made.
Word Count: About 3000
Scrubbing Up Nicely (NC-17)
Events had been taking unexpected turns for John Crichton all day, ever since he had accidentally created a magic portal and subsequently woken up in an unfamiliar room, no, correction, an unfamiliar cell, battered, bruised stripped of all clothing. Nothing like this had happened to him since his apprentice days. His motley collection of captors hadn’t exactly explained anything much, either, before they had left him alone to ponder his fate. Well, alone but for a single, silent, immobile companion. Her presence was the only positive thing to happen to him so far today.
The young woman who was his cellmate sat across the chamber, slumped against the wall. Despite her being seated, he could tell that she was tall and elegant. Beautiful even, in an unconventional way. Her long black hair was tied up in a messy pony tail. Unlike him and to John’s disappointment, she was still clothed, dressed in tight fitting brown leather hunting gear. John was just admiring her features, and wondering why she had kept her clothes when he had not, when she awoke. Grey, solemn eyes scanned the room until her gaze was arrested at the sight of him. Her long, silent and inscrutable stare would have caused John to blush and fidget uncomfortably even had he not been naked.
“What is your name and tribe!” she demanded of him, her harsh tone mitigated by her appreciative gaze as she continued to check out his naked body.
“Umm, John, John Crichton,” He stammered. “And you?”
“Aeryn Sun.”
“That’s a lovely name…. Aeryn… Sun,” he tested out the sound of it on his tongue. “Why… why are you here, in this cell, Aeryn Sun?” He asked, deciding that if she could tell him why she was here, then maybe he might learn a little of why he was here, also.
“I was escorting a small group of prisoners,” she stood and started pacing back and forth, agitated like the captured animal that he supposed that she now was. “They revolted and must have knocked me out and locked me in here…” She turned and her gaze fell on him once again. She cocked her head to one side. “It looks like they hurt you.” He thought she was about to show him some compassion until she added: “If you are to help me escape, we must see to your wounds.”
She took a step towards him and stubbed her toe on something, causing her to topple forward on top of him.
“Ow! Careful lady!” John protested, before it dawned on him that she was now lying atop him like a lover might do, her lithe body pressing down in all of the right places against his own naked one. “Are you comfortable?” He quipped. “Can I get you a pillow?” Fire flashed in her eyes.
Aeryn broke the clinch and stood, suddenly coy. “We should… focus on getting you bathed,” she gabbled. Bathed? John guessed she had been discombobulated by their recent intimacy. He rubbed his lip with his thumb and grinned, admiring the view as she strode across the chamber towards a previously unnoticed bathtub, leant over and opened some sort of tap, causing water to pour into the vessel. She pulled forth a small pouch from her belt and sprinkled a finger full of something into the running water.
“These herbs will help you to heal,“ she announced, turning to face him and flashing him a brief smile. John smiled back and, with a groan caused by his protesting muscles, began to sit then stand. Aeryn offered him a hand, watching him for a few seconds then averting her gaze before it lingered too long on his naked physique.
“Ah!” he winced at the pain. “I’m not sure if this is a good idea…. The pain,” John whined.
“Just get in the frelling tub,” she rolled her eyes. “I will clean your wounds,” she insisted, helping him over to stand beside the already quarter full bath.
While the tub filled with water, John watched in appreciative silence as Aeryn searched the room. To his considerable surprise and relief she came across his mighty, white and black sword in a dark recess. She lifted it out, holding it reverently, in both hands. He had thought he had lost everything.
“My sword, the Farscape!” John announced. Aeryn’s fingers traced the runes of IASA, his father’s order of mages, that were engraved along its length. Her wide-eyed wonder and adoring touch told John a story that was all too plain to see.
“You have a fine sword,” she proclaimed in breathy tones, lowering it so now she only held it by the hilt.
“Umm, so I’ve been told.”
“Of course, it currently lacks a sheath worthy of holding it,” Aeryn observed. John swallowed hard. “Although I’m sure I can help you with that,” she arched a suggestive eyebrow.
“I… I’d like that,” John mumbled. “I think.”
“Does it have… magical properties?” She gasped.
“Only in the right hands,” John replied as evenly as he could manage.
“If it does, I must warn you, it is my breeding, my duty, to find out….” She let the hilt slip through her fingers and advanced towards him. Within seconds those same fingers were resting lightly but firmly on John’s naked chest, pushing him backwards, against the hard edge of the tub. “But first, we must see to your… needs.”
“Needs?” John enquired as she stood back and once again began to rummage in her pouches.
“Needs,” Aeryn nodded, her face a picture of earnest seriousness. “I must check your body. For… for injury and contamination. Now take this!” she flung something at him. Instinctively he caught it. He briefly glanced to see that it was a tiny square of red flannel. He frowned. “To scrub yourself with: you’re very dirty. Now get into the tub.”
Aeryn didn’t look like she regarded the matter as open for debate so John nodded and complied lest she considered forcing the issue. The warm water, bubbly now from her herbal concoctions, invited him in and within seconds he found its strangely relaxing fragrance had his mind and body totally at ease. Aeryn moved around behind him and he felt her strong, capable fingers begin to massage his neck, then his shoulders, then his upper arms. John’s eyes began to slip shut as her expert hands worked their magic on his naked shoulders. It was so relaxing he almost felt like he might fall asleep.
‘~’
“Those parts all seem in order,” Aeryn remarked as she massaged his shoulders, trying to make the words seem nothing more than a factual comment. She was aware that her voice had dropped an octave and was quivering with her desire for him. He was big… really big - much bigger than the male elves she knew. Maybe he was one of the near-legendary Black Ghosts - elves known for their skill with the sword and for their strength and stamina. Only the finest specimens of elves were part of that tribe, and it was rumoured that they made superlative lovers.
“Are you... what sort of elf are you?” Aeryn felt her cheeks, among other places, flush at the feel of him beneath her hands. She had often idly wondered what it might be like to become a Black Ghost, or indeed to frell a Black Ghost. Perhaps this was her chance to find out the truth about more than one of her cherished fantasies?
“Elf… what, no, I’m no elf…” John muttered, not even opening his eyes.
Not an elf? So, by all the laws of her people, sexual relations with him were impermissible. His body was illicit, taboo! She shouldn’t even be touching him in such an intimate way. Aeryn considered the shocking news for a few seconds, her hands not once letting up in their exploration of his superbly muscled arms and chest. Her cheeks burned with desire to sample his forbidden delights… no one need ever know… Frell it…
‘~’
The bath was so relaxing and Aeryn’s touch was so delightful that all thoughts of how badly the day had been going had fled from John’s thoughts.
Through the haze of pleasant thoughts John was half aware of what sounded like the unfastening of buckles and then the sound of something, something like a heavy leather outfit, hitting the floor nearby. His addled brain chose to ignore the sounds - they were probably unimportant.
A sudden, unexpected splashing sound, displacement of his bathwater, and a shadow moving in front of him, all combined to make his drowsy eyes, creak open. Aeryn, her face still impassive but her body now dressed only in the flimsiest of shifts, was lowering herself into the tub in front of him.
“You… you’ve t… taken your leathers off…” John stammered as her rather perfect breasts oh-so-slowly moved lower, into his line of sight. They were tantalisingly close, the peaks almost brushing his face as they passed either side of his nose. Maybe he ought to just, lean forward, snag one between his lips and lave his tongue against..? John blinked himself back from the edge just as Aeryn frowned and shook her head firmly, once in incomprehension at his remark.
“Of course. Wet leather would be intolerable,” Aeryn replied, her voice level and factual. The water soaked higher up her shift, making it cling in all the right places… making it all but transparent in all the best places. “And uncomfortable.” John’s eyes nearly popped out. “And inconvenient,” she added with a predatory growl.
Then she lowered further and her breasts were gone from his sight. He was almost bereft. Almost, because he could now see something just as pleasing to his eyes. He reached out a hand, smoothed back a stray lock of hair from her face and, in doing so, ran his hand along the length of her magnificent eyebrow. She shuddered and blushed, then bit her lip, perhaps to suppress her slight grin. John wasn’t fooled: her whole face betrayed to him that she was aroused by his actions.
He bit and then licked his own lips, his better-self trying to convince him that placing his hands on her hips was simply to steady her, to make sure she didn’t slip and hurt herself.
“Now lie back… I need to check your…..” She began to demand, her demeanour stern and serious.
“Uhhh… Aeryn….!” John warned as she lowered further, only inches now from settling in his lap. “I should warn you… I’m kinda…”
Aeryn’s eyes widened suddenly as he felt her encounter the subject of his warning. Or was that the object of his warning? Why was he even thinking of grammar at a time like this?
“Well… that part of you seems unharmed…”Aeryn finally replied, before lowering herself further, pinning John’s keen and undeniable bulge between their bodies. It was an interesting sensation. Hell, it was beyond interesting - John didn’t think he’d ever been so turned on in his life. “Let me check on the rest of you…” she continued. Her voice was still devoid of passion, quite at odds with her actions. But she didn’t miss a beat as her hands began to stroke his muscular chest, fingers straying briefly to assess the line of his bulging biceps.
John could barely control his breathing or anything else about his body. He was vaguely aware that his own hands were splayed across her butt. They seemed quite settled there. Her butt was small and taut, yet very much female. Each cheek perfectly filled one of his palms, as though they had been made for each other.
Aeryn’s shift was now completely soaked, completely clingy and completely transparent. John’s eyes roamed freely, so his hands decided it was safe to follow suit. His hands found her body to be just as his eyes had told him it would be: smooth and lithe, a delight beyond his fantasies. Aeryn seemed unconcerned by his caresses, totally focussed on her own self-appointed task, her long fingers examining the musculature of his shoulders, then his arms then his torso. It was just as her thumb and forefinger seemed to be checking on the state of his nipple that he realised that her hips seemed to have begun to set up a slow rhythmic motion, rocking herself back and forth along his now painfully tumescent and pinioned length. He wondered for a moment what had become of the small, red washcloth, before dismissing the thought: It only mattered that it was nowhere to be seen.
“You have a split lip. And you seem to have lost your tongue,” Aeryn remarked, staring at his lips as intently as he had recently been staring at her nipples while they pushed through her soaking shift. He could no longer look at her in that way though, not least because he could feel her protruding buds now pressed firmly against his own chest.
“Hold still while I check,” Aeryn demanded, just a second before her lips locked on his, her tongue snaking in between his teeth, seeking to twine with his own. John was brought up to be a gentleman and it would have been rude not to have replied in kind: his tongue reached out to hers, their tips playfully batting against each other as though each were trying to gain the upper hand in a duel. She tasted of molasses. No, something sweeter. Honey, perhaps?
The kiss deepened and lengthened. Nothing seemed able to intrude upon their osculatory pleasures, not the long-forgotten red flannel, not John’s bumps and bruises, not John’s reservations about becoming involved with someone (and a non-human at that)after his previous disastrous relationship. And certainly not the flimsy shift that was the only thing that physically stood between them.
Aeryn’s eager fingers began to tear at the fabric, rending it as easily as wet tissue paper. As her left breast spilled free, John sent his own hands to render belated and probably unnecessary aid to the task. Aeryn pulled the garment from her front, while John tore it from her back and in seconds they were both tossing fragments of wet cloth aside, leaving them both equally naked. She leant in closer, rubbing her nose and forehead against his. The contact was, to his surprise, an intensely erotic sensation.
Maybe I ought to make horrible magical mistakes more often, John laughed to himself as the weight and eagerness of Aeryn’s advances pushed him back, deeper into the tub, allowing the angle they needed to consummate their mutual desires.
‘~’
Satisfied that the impediment of her shift had been disposed of and that nothing now stood between her and her goal of frelling the handsome Crichton, Aeryn broke their kiss and raised herself up into a kneel, her wet breasts sliding up John’s chest and across his grating stubble. She only allowed his lips the briefest moment to nip and suckle at her nipple before she bent her knees and lowered herself back down. To her surprise and delight the manoeuvre worked perfectly. She could feel him pressing firmly against her entrance, his tip docked and ready. All it would take would be for her to bend her knees just a little more…
She could see that he too could feel how perfectly positioned they were: he buried his mouth in the delicate flesh beneath her ear and kissed her with savage passion. The sensation caused her knees to buckle and she began to drop down, onto and around him. As she sank steadily lower they both cried out in a shared gasp of pleasure, their voices not stilling until she was fully settled in his lap, and he was fully sheathed inside her. Aeryn took a moment to appreciate just how much larger this strange creature, this John Crouton, was compared to the male elves she had frelled before. It wasn’t just his arms or his chest or his ridiculously oversized head: the size difference extended all the way to his cock, too. That, combined with the fact that she knew that such alien pleasures were forbidden to her people, made her feel recklessly, deliciously decadent.
Having taken a few microts to adjust to and revel in the sensation of such a huge and forbidden cock filling her belly, Aeryn restarted the rhythmic rock of her hips, deepening her gyrations and speeding up as they built towards a crescendo of passion. Each of her rocks he matched with a thrust of his own. Their movements caused water to slosh out over the edge of the tub and fall in steaming puddles on the floor. She could feel her heart beating harder, faster, so hard she thought she could even hear it. John’s hands held her firm, kneading her ass, while his lips rained passion on her neck, cheeks and eyebrows before settling on locking with her own mouth. Aeryn began to scream with pleasure and soon John joined her, adding his own gasps of delight and exertion which he punctuated by calling out her name.
The sensations of having someone as well-endowed as John inside her were so new, so wonderful, that she knew that they would not last long. It didn’t matter: she could already feel the fires of her first climax growing, even as John’s breathing began a tell-tale quickening. Shudders of pleasure began to wrack both of their bodies, tremors heralding the onset of their orgasms. Aeryn felt his warmth begin to fill her, the sensation providing the last push for her own climax, helping them to come together in a long, grinding thrust of carnal abandon as they squeezed every drop of pleasure out of each other. Sated, at least for now, their rocking began to slow to a comfortable crawl and, as they settled, still holding each other in post-coital bliss, a single, small red wash cloth floated to the surface beside them.
The end
