Claimed by the Captain | [COMPLETE]

Chapter 3

Word Count: 10958

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I didn't have anything to say in the face of Devonport's initial remark. How did he break out already? It had hardly been a half-hour since I left him in his room, and he was definitely not spending all of that time trying to get out, based on what I saw him starting to do before I left.

He turned, still bracing my door open, to gesture into my bedroom. Without the light fully silhouetting him, I saw that he was in much the same state of dishevelment as before, though the pants of his flight suit had been zipped back up to his hips, the long sleeves tied at that level so that they didn't bother him too much. My eyes gravitated towards the bulge tenting his pants at his pelvis, and I swallowed thickly before forcing my attention somewhere else.

His eyes burned into me as he commanded, "Out."

Reluctant to find out what would happen if I hesitated, I rushed past him into the room, still holding up the pale blue towel around my torso. I kept my back to him as he allowed the bathroom door to slide shut, and his boots softly thudded on my bedroom floor as he stepped closer to me. Fear and anticipation electrified my limbs, and I tried not to tremble as I squeezed my eyes closed. Even though I knew what was about to happen, I didn't want to look at him. I didn't want to see him doing this. For as long as I'd known Captain Devonport, the most physical I'd ever seen him was in training exercises with holograms. When it came to real people, the only time I'd ever seen him reach the minimum threshold of manhandling someone was when a newbie pilot insisted very aggressively on sparring me after I made the final list of science candidates, and Devonport kept the kid pinned to a wall by his chest with just one hand while Admiral Sorrel yelled at the newbie. The man I knew, in his right mind, always chose force as a last resort and always limited it to the minimum where possible. Uninhibited, I didn't know what he would do.

Devonport didn't say anything for a long moment, just long enough for me to decide that I wanted this to be over as soon as possible so that I could see if Devonport felt better afterwards.

(I wouldn't really know if he did, I belatedly thought, suddenly wondering if Devonport was as honorable as I had thought or if he would take advantage of my ignorance of the pollen to have his way with me as many times as he wanted even when he did recover from the symptoms. The only way would be to check his temperature. If his fever broke, I'd normally be able to tell eventually except for the fact that even with regular arousal, body temperature rose slightly. I wasn't a living thermometer; how was I supposed to tell the difference by touch between sex flush and fever?)

"Do you want me to—" I started, intending on offering to just drop the towel and with it, the illusion that I had any choice in what was about to happen.

Searing skin clamped down over my mouth before I finished the question, his palm over my mouth. His other hand was on my hip, but its touch was feather-light in comparison. When he spoke, his voice was a quiet rumble against my scalp, his lips against my hair and his breath making me shiver. "I'll tell you what I want when I want. Okay, pet?"

I nodded silently after a beat, figuring that if I cooperated, there was maybe still room for him to be gentle with me. At least a bit. Hadn't he promised gentleness with my cooperation earlier? I hoped he still had the restraint to give me that much.

He released me after my agreement, and I stood silently, turning my head just enough to glance over my shoulder to see what he was doing. It looked like he was staring at my back, his eyes tracing up and down as he wore an expression of contemplation. He stepped around me slowly and continued to look me over, not touching me at all. He stopped in front of me, and I flushed and looked away from him, unable to breathe. What was he doing? What was going on in his mind? I had expected something primal, something fast and heady, not for him to circle me like a cat figuring how best to play with his food before he devoured it.