"Warm Body, Aching Heart" by Dianora 1/1 *NC17* A Robotech Story This takes place during the two years of Reconstruction, between episodes 27 and 28 of The Macross Saga. This entire scene can be blamed on one line from the book "Force of Arms" by Jack McKinney: "When she smoothed the sheets to make up the bed, [Lisa's] hands lingered upon them, and she touched the pillows tenderly, remembering [Rick's] head on them, and her own." Whether you choose to follow that implication to its logical conclusion or not, I have to say I can see it happening. (And I mean that based not just on the McKinney books, but on the actual show itself as well.) And the story that follows shows how I see it...not very romantic, but their relationship wasn't much about hearts and flowers at that point, was it? These characters do not belong to me, but to Tatsunoko and Harmony Gold. No copyright infringement intended. I do it for the love. Rated NC17 for sexual activity. If you're underage or easily offended leave now. Comments to Dianora2@aol.com. A knock at the door interrupted Lisa's reading. Startled, she glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven. Who could it possibly be at this hour? She prayed it wasn't some sort of emergency. She hurried to the door, opened it, willing her heart to stop pounding. "Rick?" She was more than a little surprised to find Rick Hunter on her doorstep. Not because his coming over was unusual, far from it -- she just couldn't understand why he would show up, without warning, at this time of night. He ran a hand through his unruly mane of black hair, regarded her with a somewhat sheepish grin. "Sorry to bother you. I know it's late." "You know I don't mind," she said. So much for her heart slowing down. It now threatened to break right through her rib cage. "Come on in." "Thanks." He followed her inside, then stood in the middle of the living room, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, apparently at a loss as to what to do next. She eyed him suspiciously, wondering just what was going on in that muddled head of his this time. Nothing too out of the ordinary had happened recently, at least not that she knew of. Of course, neither of them had quite yet healed from the devastation of Dolza's attack. They'd both spent a lot of time crying in each other's arms over the past couple of months. In fact, with every passing day she felt that they were growing closer, maybe even... She shook her head, impatient with herself. No sense beating her head against that particular wall. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked, figuring one of them should do *something.* His head snapped up as if he was shocked to discover someone else in the room. "Uh, yeah. Thanks." She managed to scare up a couple of glasses and a half-empty bottle of wine, and brought them back in to the living room. She was relieved to discover that he'd finally decided to take a seat on the couch. "Here you go," she said, a bit more brightly than necessary, as she handed him his glass. He nodded his thanks and gulped the contents down. She blinked. Something was going on, and she wasn't sure she was going to like it. "Rick, what is it? Do you need to talk? Did something happen today?" He studied the empty wine glass, not meeting her eyes. "Nah. I was just kind of down, I guess. I was taking a walk, outside, and...I wound up here." "Well, you know you're always welcome here, Rick," she said, hoping he'd elaborate on whatever was really troubling him. He smiled at her. "You always listen to me, Lisa. You know? Some people, they just wait until the other person is done talking so *they* can talk back. But you --" His hand made a meaningless gesture, grasping the air. "You just listen." She exhaled loudly, hoping this wasn't going to be yet another of his you're-my-best-friend speeches. Not when she wanted so much more from him. She didn't think she could take it, not anymore. He leaned back on the couch, relaxing a bit, and she felt her shoulders untense in response. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe he'd really just had a bad day and needed to talk. That, she could handle. At least it would be familiar territory, for both of them. Making a conscious effort to loosen up, she leaned back next to him and drained her own glass, needing the fortification, then set it back down on the table. "You're a pretty good listener yourself, Hunter." He chuckled. "You're paying me a compliment? I didn't realize it was my birthday." She let out a low laugh in return, and he took that as an invitation to lean against her, resting his head comfortably on her shoulder. Oh, God, she thought. Does he have any idea what this is doing to me? Still, she tried to relax, to just enjoy the feeling of his warm body against hers, the sound of his breathing. His dark hair was soft against her chin, tickling a little, and her arm was starting to cramp up. But she wouldn't have moved for all the world. "Do you ever..." Rick started, then paused. Paused so long she wasn't sure he'd complete the sentence. Then: "Do you ever get...lonely?" "Every day," she whispered. "Karl?" he asked. He began picking absently at the fuzz on the sleeve of her sweater, his hand occasionally brushing hers, sending dangerous fire coursing through her. "Sometimes," she said, relieved that she managed to keep her voice steady. "Other times...I don't know. Sometimes you don't need a reason." "I guess not," he said, his voice soft. "But...when I'm here, when I'm with you...I'm a little less lonely, you know?" God oh god oh god. "Me too," she croaked. He shifted next to her, and his hair brushed against her mouth. She reached up to smooth it down, but then couldn't seem to stop herself from lingering there, running her fingers gently through that dark mane. His head lifted, and her hand slid down to his cheek. "Lisa." She froze as the world stood still. Then he scooted up on the couch so that his face was inches from hers, his eyes focused on her lips. She could feel his breath on her face, but felt unable to breathe herself. Unable to breathe, to move, to do anything. His mouth worked as if he were trying to say something. Then he said her name again, making it sound like a prayer. Or a plea for forgiveness. In near-slow-motion his lips touched hers, hesitantly, imploringly. A sharp, high-pitched sigh escaped from her throat, into his mouth, and he deepened the kiss, inhaling harshly and opening her mouth with his tongue. She responded with all the desperate longing that had been building in her for months, wrapping her arms around his neck, closing her eyes tight, shutting out the rest of the world. His hands came up and buried themselves in her hair, clasping her head, pulling her closer to him until she was practically on top of him on the couch. For a long time her entire existence consisted of nothing but his mouth on hers, her tongue sliding against his, his hands in her hair. When they finally came up for air, she looked at him, almost afraid of what she might find there. But there was no mistaking the harsh glint of desire in his eyes, the shortness of his breath. "Rick --" He cut her off, covering her mouth with his once more, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her close again, settling her on top of him so that she straddled his waist. His hands were everywhere, running over her shoulders, down her arms, back up to her hair. When one strong hand slipped underneath her sweater, caressing the bare skin of her back, traveling upward to brush against her breast, she didn't resist. She could feel him hardening through his jeans, pressing insistently against her, demanding. He stopped kissing her long enough to pull her sweater up over her head. Tiny goosebumps raised on her skin as he looked at her, running his hands over her torso, caressing her breasts with a shaky touch. She held her breath when he removed her bra, then let it out in a rush when he leaned forward and covered one breast with his mouth. He circled the nipple with his tongue, then nibbled on it, pulling gently at it, teasing it to sensitive hardness. He reached up to fondle her other breast, and she was infinitely glad his other hand was supporting the small of her back, or she probably would have fallen over from the pure shock and pleasure of it. All too soon he returned to her mouth, kissing her hard, almost hurting, nearly devouring her. She undid the buttons of his shirt with trembling hands, then helped him to shrug out of it and toss it aside. She ran her hands over his bare chest, feeling his muscles, his small brown nipples that hardened at her touch. He made a strangled sound deep in his throat and pushed her down on the couch so that he could slip her jeans off, then her panties. And then she was naked beneath him. She squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassed, wishing they had turned off the lights before starting this. As if she could have predicted this. She could hear him taking off his own jeans, his boxers, and then his hands were sliding up and down her legs, up her thighs, spreading them. The unexpected sensation of his tongue flickering between her legs caused her eyes to flash open, then close again, even tighter. She whimpered as he explored those delicate folds with his tongue, licking, sucking, until she was writhing on the couch, wondering if she was going mad. When he took her swollen center into his mouth and sucked on it strongly, she was lost. She came against his mouth with a series of soft cries, whispering his name, trying for some unknown reason to keep her voice down. And then he was kissing her, again, and she wondered if he knew that she could taste herself on his tongue. When his hands grasped her hips she responded eagerly, raising them to him, arching her back, helping him seek entrance. She bit back a cry of pain when he finally, slowly, pushed himself inside of her. He started to pull out a little, and this time a small sob escaped her lips. He froze. "Jesus, Lisa, I didn't know..." She shook her head and opened her eyes, reached up for him. "Don't stop." He kissed her on the forehead and began moving in and out of her once more, and soon it didn't hurt anymore, soon it was a throbbing, heated pleasure that threatened to consume her entirely. She locked her ankles behind his back and urged him on, his thrusts driving her against the arm of the couch, his breath hot against her cheek. She turned her head so that their mouths met, and she kissed him longingly, trying to put everything she had into it, trying to tell him with actions what she hadn't been able to tell him in words. "God," he whispered, breaking his mouth away from hers. "God, you feel so good, Lisa..." And then he came, groaning loudly, his body spasming as he spent himself inside her. It was over. Rick pulled out of her and sat up on the couch, looking embarrassed and more than a little scared. Overcome suddenly by the urge to cover herself, Lisa reached down and scooped her sweater up off the floor, pulled it down over her head. Then she lay there, watching him, afraid to break the silence, wondering what would happen next. He looked over at her, flinched when he realized she'd put her sweater back on. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Don't," she said, in a voice that dripped cold venom. "Don't you dare apologize to me, Rick." He gazed at her helplessly for long moments, then leaned over and kissed her, softly, tenderly. "I..I do care about you, Lisa," he said when they parted. Wow. This was even worse than she'd imagined. She supposed she was pathetically naive to have expected some grand declaration of love, but it sure would've been nice. "I...care about you too." What else could she say? He reached for his jeans. "I should go -- " She stopped his hand. "Don't. Stay the night, Rick. Stay here, with me." "I don't know if that's a good..." He trailed off, then relented. "Okay." He covered her body with his again and embraced her, burying his face in her neck, clinging to her the way a child would cling to his mother. She blinked back stinging tears as she held him and stared up at the ceiling. And so it goes, she thought. A few moments of pleasure, he gets what he needs, all the while still living in his little fantasy world that revolves around Minmei. Still being able to worship her from afar while getting everything else he wants from me. And I get...what do I get? I get to pretend, she realized sadly. I get to pretend that he's mine. end.