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Anya is in the kitchen with her sister when the first knock comes.
It's their first home, the one they lived in before their parents split up, so Anya can see the front door from her place at the stove.
She’s staring at it quizzically, wondering why it sounds so metallic, so clear over the roaring rainfall, when it comes again. Three short raps, and Anya wakes in her room on Tulpar. She freezes, and clutches Polle a little tighter to her chest.
It's Daisuke, she wills. It's Daisuke, and he needs an Imodium. Or Swansea. He can’t sleep without some arnica for his back. Maybe he fell out of bed and cracked open his skull.
It's Curly. For once, let it be Curly at her door, waiting for her to open it so he can wrap her in his arms and say To hell with the rules, Anya! I want you! Let's do it on your desk right now!
If she waits long enough, Jim will knock again. If she waits longer, he’ll come in anyway, and then Anya will already be in bed where he wants her.
If she just gets up and opens it now, she’s still going to end up in bed with him, but she would at least be following Pony Express regulations. An open door makes a difference, or so says Polle.
Anya gives the ceiling the most why god me expression she can muster, and throws off her blanket. She tucks her Polle plushie back into his spot by her pillow and shuffles to the door. Jim is waiting on the other side in his night clothes with his arm up against the frame. Anya glares.
“There is no way you're out of melatonin already.”
Jimmy doesn’t even try to look genuine. “Wouldn’t you know it, my hand slipped. I spilled the whole bottle down the drain.”
“Oh my god. That better be a joke.”
He shrugs. “You know how clumsy I can be.”
“Are you being serious?” Anya’s shoulders fall, and she groans. “Jim! I wasn't even supposed to let it leave the med bay! If the entire bottle is gone I'm going to have to do a crap ton of paperwork to explain it!”
“So? It's not like you have anything else to do. Now you can tell everyone you're busy tomorrow and you won't be lying.”
Anya rolls her eyes. “I'll need to get my rest, then.”
She slides the door closed with some force, but Jimmy catches it before it shuts.
“Hey, that's no way to treat a crewmate, nurse Anya. I have a real problem on my hands. How else am I going to get to sleep?”
“Try some deep breathing. Goodnight."
She tries again to shut the door, fully willing to slam it closed on his fingers, but it barely scrapes a few inches in her favor. Jimmy gives her a sardonic smile for her effort, and shoves the door back open with ease.
“Jim-” Anya starts, dropping the handle to cross an arm over her chest. “Really. It's late. I'm tired.”
“C’mon,” he purrs. “I need some medical advice. Isn't that your job?”
Jimmy doesn't waste time on any more wheel spinning once the door is shut behind him, pulling Anya against his chest and catching her mouth in a searing kiss. She muffles a protest against his lips.
Anya tries to shove him off, but Jimmy grabs her arms, stepping forward until she has no choice but follow him to her bed or fall backwards.
Her knees hit the edge of her mattress and she sits with a bounce. Jim’s tongue is still trying to force itself into Anya’s mouth, and when she jostles, it dislodges him enough that she can press her lips tightly together, barring him from any more face sucking.
He moves onto her neck, undeterred, kissing slowly down the line of her throat. When he reaches the join of her shoulder, his teeth come down in a punishing chomp.
“Jim,” Anya seethes. “Don't! The marks!” But Jimmy only bites more savagely, and the rest of Anya’s words are lost to panting.
“Won't show,” he mumbles once he’s released her, rubbing a thumb over the bruise. Anya rolls her eyes. Easy for him to say. She only has so many turtlenecks.
He begins tugging up the hem of her shirt, lifting the offending article until it catches under her arms.
“Jim, slow down-”
He tries the neck hole next, attempting to work it over her head with more forceful shoving, and managing nothing but tangling Anya in it. She huffs, and her hands join the fray to pull it the rest of the way off.
Jimmy seems satisfied once her chest is exposed, and he pushes her onto her back, dragging his nose up the line of her belly until he finds her breasts with more scratchy kisses.
His tongue flicks out to lave over a nipple, then he closes his mouth around the tip and sucks. The ticklish brushes of sensation bloom into pleasure under her skin, and Anya gasps.
He cups her other breast, bouncing it in his palm, and his thumb swipes over her nipple. When it peaks for him, he grabs it, pinching the bud roughly between fingers. Anya yips, more startled than hurt, and Jimmy’s eyes flick up to her face. On her other side, he bites down hard on the mouthful of flesh.
Anya cries out, much too loud, and claps a hand over her mouth. Jim moans in his throat. He holds her gaze as he pulls back, sliding to his knees between Anya’s parted thighs.
Anya tries to snap her legs shut when she registers what he’s doing, but it only draws him into her. Anya’s hand shoots out to grab his shoulder, halting him before he can get any closer to her groin.
“Jim,” she says, pleading. Jimmy stares up at her with as much desire as derision- utterly delighted with his conquest of her.
Their eyes are still locked when he takes up both her legs, pushing them wider and hooking them over his arms. Anya shakes her head vehemently, releasing his shoulder to wrench a handful of his hair instead. It has to hurt, Anya’s trying to make it hurt, digging her nails into his scalp, but the look in his eyes only softens. Slowly, like Anya might bolt if he startles her, his hand slides up to take hold of her waistband, working down her shorts and panties until her sex is bared to him.
Jimmy groans. It turns out the grip on his hair isn't enough leverage to keep him at arm’s length. He leans in, pushing into Anya’s fist until he can bring his lips to her pussy and kiss her deeply, more gently than he had her mouth.
Jim’s tongue bathes her slit with liquid heat, and Anya’s head falls back against the bed.
“Oh,” she says, and his tongue works her again. Anya lets go of Jim’s hair, her palm cupping the back of his head.
He is, unfortunately, very good at this. Anya had a boyfriend once that liked to eat her out, but she hadn’t been a big fan. It felt too-intimate. Anya just couldn’t relax and enjoy the feeling, so worried that he was bored, or unwitting, or disgusted. Other partners offered, but Anya would politely decline, much preferring to give, than receive, oral pleasure.
Jimmy, who does not give a single shit what Anya prefers, eats her out seemingly as some sort of bizarre manipulation tactic. It's become a favorite past time since he discovered how much it makes her squirm. She doesn’t pretend to understand.
Anya can only hold onto her resolve for so long. Jimmy sucks Anya’s clit into his mouth and her hips jerk, pressing against his face and then trying desperately to pull away from it.
His beard tickles the insides of her thighs, his hands move to grip her ass, and Anya’s legs fall open around him.
“Fuck,” she says, her voice wet. “Jim,”
Jimmy moans into her cunt. He pulls back, and a finger begins pressing at her entrance. “Again,” he says, and the digit slips inside.
“Jim, please,”
He withdraws his finger to lap at her entrance some more. “You taste so good.”
When Jim's fingers return, two push inside her and take up a steady rhythm, delving inside, crooking against her button, then pulling out and striking again. It rips little staccato noises from her throat, her breathy ah ahs keeping perfect time with his thrusts.
“You’re such a whore, Anya” Jimmy mutters, and Anya doesn't like that, but she's too busy getting fucked to contradict it, or anything else that pours from Jim’s mouth as he takes her.
“Your pussy is so tight for me.” He says. “Dirty slut.” “I’m going to fuck your mouth.” "Are you going to come?" “You love this.”
Molten lava pools in her gut. Every stroke inside her brings her closer to her peak. Anya’s back arches off the bed. Her hands scramble against the sheets. She calls Jimmy’s name again, and finally erupts around him with a broken sob, tightening on his fingers like a vice.
He slows his strokes once she’s finished, working her through the aftershocks. When he’s satisfied, he pulls out and holds up his two middle digits, licking her essence off them with obscene swipes of his tongue. Then he rises from his knees to fall over her, tilting up her chin and bringing their mouths together to smear the taste of her across her lips.
“Good,” Jim says. Anya isn’t sure if it's supposed to be a question, but she nods.
He grins, and says "Good. My turn."
Jim tucks himself back into his pants once he's spent, bushing the stray dribbles of semen off his hand with a swipe down his leg. Anya wipes her mouth and puts her head down on his thigh to catch her breath.
Jimmy leans back against the wall and throws an arm behind his head, closing his eyes and letting out a contented sigh. He’s still holding Anya by the ponytail, but his grip is gentle. They stay like that for a while. Every so often Jimmy drags his knuckles absently against her scalp or twists a bit of her hair with his fingers. It’s almost pleasant. It makes her think of the captain.
Not that Curly has ever held her by a fistful of her hair or rested her head on his lap, but something about the gesture is familiar, like watching Curly twirl a pen around in his hand, or stroke a thumb against his chin when he’s distracted.
Jim even smells enough like Curly that she can almost pretend it's him underneath her.
He smells enough like Curly that eventually, she’s convinced she's not imagining it. Anya turns her head to press her nose to the edge of Jim’s shirt and inhales. There's a bit of the scent, but as Anya grasps for it, it gets faint.
“Are you smelling me?”
“Is this the captain’s shirt?”
Anya pulls back so she can look at it, though she hardly needs a better view, the shirt Jimmy’s wearing is a plain crew neck, not something she could recognize as obviously Curly’s. Jimmy loosens his fist so she can extract her hair, and some strands pull away from his fingers with a bit of sticky residue. Anya watches in revulsion. How annoying. She washed her hair yesterday, and isn't too keen on having to do it again tomorrow. The process takes up most of her seven allotted shower minutes.
Anya feels Jimmy's chest jump with a silent chuckle. When Anya meets his face, he’s looking at her like she's lost her mind. Anya frowns, and the snicker splits into a delighted grin.
"What?"
Jimmy shakes his head, and pulls up the waistband of his underwear so they can peek out from his pants.
“Nope. These are his boxers, though. You could smell that?”
Anya's cheeks go cold, then hot again.
“Oh my god. Jim! Gross!”
“What? I had to borrow some.”
“You couldn’t borrow a clean pair?”
Jim shrugs. “They were cleaner than mine.”
“Oh- That's disgusting, Jimmy.”
“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, panty sniffer.”
Anya doesn't want to lay so close to his crotch anymore, but the way their legs are tangled together isn't so bad. She scoots up to rest on Jim’s stomach instead, letting her head fall against him with some force. Jim oofs. With her ear pressed to his midsection, Anya can hear the little swishes of his gut working underneath her.
She doesn’t realize she’s drifting off until Jimmy nudges her ankle with his foot. “Don't fall asleep on me. I have to leave.”
Anya gives a hm.
“No, really. I have to take over the wheel in like, three hours.”
But Jimmy doesn't try very hard to dislodge her, and Anya doesn’t budge. What can she say? He's warmer than Polle.
“Seriously. If I knock out and miss the shift change, Curly’s going to kick my ass.”
Which isn’t true, Jimmy has never garnered more than a reproachful look from the captain, no matter the misdeed, but she snorts anyway. “Oh, really? Well then, stay the night.”
Jimmy pinches her on the hip. “I knew you weren't asleep. Go ahead and laugh but we're both getting a write up if he finds me here.”
She raises her head to quirk an eyebrow at him.
“I don't think I’m fraternizing if you break into my room.”
“I’m not breaking in if you open the door for me.”
“You would've just opened it anyway.”
“Maybe, or maybe I wouldn’t. Does it matter? You let me fuck you either way.”
Anya tries to let that one roll off. It's a stupid jab, but it hurts. She sits up, trying for a firm look so Jim knows she’s serious.
“I don’t let you do it. I told you I’m not interested, but you don’t listen."
“Sure, sure. I don’t mind playing the bad guy, if that's what you want. I’ll pretend to break in, and you can pretend you’re not desperate for the attention.”
Anya gives him a glare. “Don’t say things like that. I’m not desperate for anything.”
“Yeah, you are. Tell me I'm wrong, but you’d put up a real fight if he liked you back.”
Which is an even stupider jab, but Anya’s glare crumples. She turns her head so Jim can’t see her eyes. Her voice is thick when she speaks.
“That’s really fucked up, Jim.” She brings her arm up to cross over her chest. Anya wishes she had something more cutting to say, but it's never been her specialty. “You should go.”
“What, now you're upset?”
“Don't you have to get up early?”
Jimmy doesn’t move.
“Jim, go!”
“You can’t seriously be about to cry because of that.”
“Go! Now!”
“Whatever. Don’t be so fucking easy, then.”
Jimmy shoves himself off the bed, turning to give Polle a swat as he goes. Anya’s plushie flies through the air and lands nose over haunches in a heap.
“Hey!” Anya cries, and Jimmy storms out the door without so much as a look behind him, throwing it shut with a resounding clank. “Fucking jerk,” she tells the air.
The ensuing silence rings in her empty bedroom. Anya sighs. Swansea will have something snide to say about the noise tomorrow, but it’s nothing that would have woken Daisuke, and Curly can’t hear them from the cockpit, so at least the humiliation won't be new.
Anya gets up to collect Polle from the floor, brushing off any unseen dirt and placing an apologetic kiss on his head.
She flops back onto the bed and curls around Polle like a fishhook. Her pillow still smells like Jimmy when she buries her face into it.