Entry Three-2001, A Space Odyssey
Title: To the Moon and Back part 2 (of 3)
Author: Quetzal quetzals_nest
Fandom: 2001, A Space Odyssey
Pairing: Dave Bowman/OC
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 1054
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Beta Reader: hexeengel
Author's Note: My awesome fake-sister hexeengel sent me the Savage Garden song To The Moon and Back because it made her think of Dave Bowman, who I think is, like, the ideal man. I was listening to it last night as well, and then I thought of this fic this morning when I woke up.
Spoilers if you haven’t seen the movie or read the book.
Part 1 is here
I would fly to the moon & back if you'll be... If you'll be my baby
Training was damn near killing Dave. After six months of dating, he had discovered he had been accepted to training for the Jupiter mission. She sold her business to a colleague, packed her bags, and moved to Texas with him. That had been February of 1998.
Now she was often at home, awake at the weird hours Dave now kept with training. Every day she woke at four-thirty to make him a good breakfast. Dinner wasn’t often until eight or nine with bedtime shortly after. The stress, he claimed, was important. He would be living in space for years.
It hurt her every time he said he would be gone for years. Of course, she had known this all along. He had tried to stop her from moving in with him, but she refused. At first, she had tried everything to get him to reconsider. She tried getting him to marry her, and to get pregnant, but it all failed. He was never going to give up the mission. He was so excited, so thrilled to have been hand-picked out of all the potentials. This was what he was born to do, and nothing was going to change that.
Instead, she devoted each and every day they had left to making him happy and comfortable.
Once a month, for a weekend only, the trainees were allowed to take a sort of vacation. They had to stay in Texas, but they did not have to go to training every day. These were the weekends she looked forward to the most.
On the Friday nights, she would make his favourite meals. They would try to stay up past eleven, like they use to back in New York, but it rarely worked.
Saturdays would mean glorious sleeping in, cuddles, movies, and whatever other entertainment they could come up with.
It was the Saturday nights that were the most fun.
They would go out to a fancy restaurant, one they had discovered the first day they were in Houston. It was a steakhouse that served a surprising amount of Italian dishes, which they both enjoyed immensely. She would have wine-Dave was not supposed to drink during training-and would be pleasantly tipsy by the end of the meal. They never had dessert there, because she could always come up with something much better at home.
She was lying on the bed as still as she could possibly be. The smooth leather of the wrist and ankle cuffs held her perfectly in place, sprawled out on her back in the shape of an X. She had a ball-gag in her mouth, and a PVC collar around her neck. She was watching Dave quietly as he finished turning her breasts into works of art.
Each one was covered in a tower of whipped cream, with a cherry perched on top. He drizzled chocolate sauce over them, and between her breasts as well, connecting them like some kind of food bra. He looked very proud of his work.
And he was very thrilled to devour them.
He went slowly, teasing her and savouring each lick of whipped cream and chocolate. He enjoyed biting the cherries so the sweetness exploded in his mouth. He was very thorough, making sure every last drop had been cleaned off her chest.
He would then remove the ball-gag and kiss her. She would still taste the whipped cream and chocolate.
Dave was always incredibly thorough. Every time, he would explore her body as if it was their first time. He was determined to use all his senses, feeling her wetness with his fingers as he tasted the sweat he licked off her neck, smelling the cucumber and mint shampoo she always used.
After what seemed like both an eternity and not nearly long enough, he would push into her. Without fail, she would try to break her bonds to hold him close.
Oooh, that would make him mad. He would stop, pull out of her, and say, “If you do that again, I will leave you tied here for the rest of the night while I sleep on the couch.”
She would whimper out, “I’m sorry Commander, it won’t happen again.”
And it never did. She did not fight to hold him, though she would involuntarily shake in her bonds.
Even nestled deep inside her, he would continue to tease, pausing if he felt she was getting too close to the brink. He would watch her calm down before starting again. Half a dozen times, maybe, he would do this. She would be tearing up from sensation, begging silently for him to let her orgasm.
When he did so, she was finally allowed to speak. She would yell, moan, and scream out to God.
As the throes of orgasm subsided from both of them, Dave would uncuff her, legs first, then arms. She would stare up at him, big eyes sparkling with tears, and throw her arms around his shoulders. They would kiss deeply for a moment or two. As they kissed, he would remove the collar, and she would continue to cling to him.
They settled down, sometime after, but she would not let him go. He had understood early on that she needed this contact. She needed to touch him and hold him and smell him.
“I love you,” she would say over and over again.
“I love you too.”
She wanted to tell him not to go to Jupiter, and to ask him to stay at home with her, but she knew it would be futile to attempt that, so instead she cuddled close to him.
She did like to be dominated by him. She loved to submit to his will. But, she also needed to be his equal, especially afterwards. Her emotions would be running on overdrive, and this comfort-after-care it was called-was more therapeutic than talking. This is when he would kiss her hair, and hold her hand, and whisper that everything would be alright. She would remember these moments when he was away. She would take out the cuffs and smell them, and remember the times they shared, how close their bond was.
And yes, she would wait for him.
Author: Quetzal quetzals_nest
Fandom: 2001, A Space Odyssey
Pairing: Dave Bowman/OC
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 1054
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Beta Reader: hexeengel
Author's Note: My awesome fake-sister hexeengel sent me the Savage Garden song To The Moon and Back because it made her think of Dave Bowman, who I think is, like, the ideal man. I was listening to it last night as well, and then I thought of this fic this morning when I woke up.
Spoilers if you haven’t seen the movie or read the book.
Part 1 is here
I would fly to the moon & back if you'll be... If you'll be my baby
Training was damn near killing Dave. After six months of dating, he had discovered he had been accepted to training for the Jupiter mission. She sold her business to a colleague, packed her bags, and moved to Texas with him. That had been February of 1998.
Now she was often at home, awake at the weird hours Dave now kept with training. Every day she woke at four-thirty to make him a good breakfast. Dinner wasn’t often until eight or nine with bedtime shortly after. The stress, he claimed, was important. He would be living in space for years.
It hurt her every time he said he would be gone for years. Of course, she had known this all along. He had tried to stop her from moving in with him, but she refused. At first, she had tried everything to get him to reconsider. She tried getting him to marry her, and to get pregnant, but it all failed. He was never going to give up the mission. He was so excited, so thrilled to have been hand-picked out of all the potentials. This was what he was born to do, and nothing was going to change that.
Instead, she devoted each and every day they had left to making him happy and comfortable.
Once a month, for a weekend only, the trainees were allowed to take a sort of vacation. They had to stay in Texas, but they did not have to go to training every day. These were the weekends she looked forward to the most.
On the Friday nights, she would make his favourite meals. They would try to stay up past eleven, like they use to back in New York, but it rarely worked.
Saturdays would mean glorious sleeping in, cuddles, movies, and whatever other entertainment they could come up with.
It was the Saturday nights that were the most fun.
They would go out to a fancy restaurant, one they had discovered the first day they were in Houston. It was a steakhouse that served a surprising amount of Italian dishes, which they both enjoyed immensely. She would have wine-Dave was not supposed to drink during training-and would be pleasantly tipsy by the end of the meal. They never had dessert there, because she could always come up with something much better at home.
She was lying on the bed as still as she could possibly be. The smooth leather of the wrist and ankle cuffs held her perfectly in place, sprawled out on her back in the shape of an X. She had a ball-gag in her mouth, and a PVC collar around her neck. She was watching Dave quietly as he finished turning her breasts into works of art.
Each one was covered in a tower of whipped cream, with a cherry perched on top. He drizzled chocolate sauce over them, and between her breasts as well, connecting them like some kind of food bra. He looked very proud of his work.
And he was very thrilled to devour them.
He went slowly, teasing her and savouring each lick of whipped cream and chocolate. He enjoyed biting the cherries so the sweetness exploded in his mouth. He was very thorough, making sure every last drop had been cleaned off her chest.
He would then remove the ball-gag and kiss her. She would still taste the whipped cream and chocolate.
Dave was always incredibly thorough. Every time, he would explore her body as if it was their first time. He was determined to use all his senses, feeling her wetness with his fingers as he tasted the sweat he licked off her neck, smelling the cucumber and mint shampoo she always used.
After what seemed like both an eternity and not nearly long enough, he would push into her. Without fail, she would try to break her bonds to hold him close.
Oooh, that would make him mad. He would stop, pull out of her, and say, “If you do that again, I will leave you tied here for the rest of the night while I sleep on the couch.”
She would whimper out, “I’m sorry Commander, it won’t happen again.”
And it never did. She did not fight to hold him, though she would involuntarily shake in her bonds.
Even nestled deep inside her, he would continue to tease, pausing if he felt she was getting too close to the brink. He would watch her calm down before starting again. Half a dozen times, maybe, he would do this. She would be tearing up from sensation, begging silently for him to let her orgasm.
When he did so, she was finally allowed to speak. She would yell, moan, and scream out to God.
As the throes of orgasm subsided from both of them, Dave would uncuff her, legs first, then arms. She would stare up at him, big eyes sparkling with tears, and throw her arms around his shoulders. They would kiss deeply for a moment or two. As they kissed, he would remove the collar, and she would continue to cling to him.
They settled down, sometime after, but she would not let him go. He had understood early on that she needed this contact. She needed to touch him and hold him and smell him.
“I love you,” she would say over and over again.
“I love you too.”
She wanted to tell him not to go to Jupiter, and to ask him to stay at home with her, but she knew it would be futile to attempt that, so instead she cuddled close to him.
She did like to be dominated by him. She loved to submit to his will. But, she also needed to be his equal, especially afterwards. Her emotions would be running on overdrive, and this comfort-after-care it was called-was more therapeutic than talking. This is when he would kiss her hair, and hold her hand, and whisper that everything would be alright. She would remember these moments when he was away. She would take out the cuffs and smell them, and remember the times they shared, how close their bond was.
And yes, she would wait for him.