SomeloodshitIdunno(NSFW)

Dorsetshire stretched her arms out as she woke up; yawning as the daylight poked through the curtains, spots of sunlight marking her peachy flesh as she sat dozily upright.

A noise to her side drew her attention, and her waking mind wasn’t able to process it until a moment later, when she realised that a completely nude Ian lay next to her, sprawled across the bed, unconscious. She blinked to clear her eyes and spent a few moments just… looking at him. He was toned in the typical way that career military men are, a fact she certainly appreciated, particularly with regards to his stamina. His short brown hair was tousled and messy and though his eyelids were shut, she knew that behind them lay a pair of perfect cerulean blue orbs that she could swim in all day.

She lay on her side, facing him, watching her lover as he snoozed. They were lucky that they were both on leave; otherwise such a rendezvous would never have been possible. Technically, girls like herself were offered special privileges within the Royal Navy, but these only extended so far, and also depended entirely on just exactly who was asking who.

He looked so peaceful and quiet as he slumbered–a distant cry from his lively and active self when he was awake to be sure. Dorsetshire reached forward with a hand to touch his shoulder, feeling his warmth as she trailed it over his form to his chest and across his heart. She felt it *thump-thump* against her palm, and was suddenly overcome by melancholy, and withdrew her hand, pressing it to her chest as if to absorb the warmth of his skin, as if that little act would somehow make her…

*Human…*

She shivered and looked down at herself. She too, was unclothed, and she began to probe herself with the fingers of her right hand. She started with her hair, which–untied–spilled out across the pillow like a dazzling red lake. Next was her face, as she pressed against her nose and traced the contours of her lips; lips which had, scant hours beforehand, wrestled fiercely with her partner’s as they engaged in a heated act of such passion that the mere memory of it ignited a desire within her like a switch was thrown. No sooner had it begun to burn than she smothered it. This was no time.

She had to be sure.

She had to know.

Dorsetshire slid her palm down to her neck; fingers never once leaving her flesh. She shivered as she reached her breasts, and noticed that the nubs that tipped them had begun to stiffen. She suppressed the urge to titter at the tickling sensation and continued her exploration.

Her stomach wasn’t especially toned, but it possessed not an ounce of fat that other–

–human–

–girls would drive themselves to madness obsessing over trying to remove. She could certainly rock the swimsuit look. In fact, she wasn’t aware of any of–

–her kind–

–the others who *didn’t*. Whoever was responsible for–

–creating–

–returning them was in a most generous mood. Even the young Destroyer girls would grow up–

–if they even could–

–to be utter knockouts who Dorsetshire was sure would draw eyes no matter where they trod in time.

She circled her navel with her index finger and tentatively drew lower, dipping the digit in between her thighs, shuddering as she brushed her outer lips. The temptation to play with herself whispered sweetly in the back of her mind but she shook it off. Such behaviour was entirely unbefitting of a woman of her bearing. Instead she moved away, gripping the meat of her thighs, tugging at her calves, travelling down ever further until she reached her ankle, and then her feet, finishing with the tips of her toes.

It all felt real; she possessed all the right parts.

So then surely if she pressed her hand to her chest, in the exact same spot Ian’s heart beat in his body, she would feel the same *thump-thump*.

Dorsetshire raised the hand she had just used to wander across her form to her breast. Compared to charging an Abyssal battle-formation, this was the easiest thing in the world.

So then why did she feel so terrified?

She realised her throat felt suddenly dry and swallowed a few times to remove the sensation.

‘Come on now…’ she thought to herself; eyes fixated on where her hand hovered above the spot where her heart should be. She was starting to shake. What if there was nothing there?

‘You silly cow,’ she silently berated herself. ‘Just lower your hand and…’

A sudden force gripped hold of her arms and she only barely held back a shriek of panic, which bubbled up through her throat sounding like a panicked hiccup.

“Morning beautiful,” Ian said with a lazy grin and a wink.

“Ian you– you scared me,” Dorsetshire breathed, working to control her quickened breathing.

“I know,” he said, grin widening. Dorsetshire sucked in a lungful of air and huffed.

“Well I hope you found it amusing,” she grumped, “now could you please let go of me?”

Instead of responding, Ian raised her arms above her head, his mouth splitting to form a wide, toothy grin as he manipulated her. Both of them knew that she could break free at any given time, but, as with so many other things, Dorsetshire indulged him his playful nature. With his hands still occupied, he hauled both himself and his partner up into a sitting position, making sure that he kept Dorsetshire’s arms above her head. She noticed the way his sight dipped lower at the sight of her swaying breasts and felt her cheeks flush with heat as she recognised that glint of desire in his sparkling blue eyes.

Swiftly and suddenly, he released her, only to take hold of her–one hand reaching around her back while the other dived around her waist–and pull the flustered heavy cruiser girl closer to press his lips to hers for a world-shattering good morning kiss. Even as the sensation began to overwhelm her, she was aware of his hands roaming across her, one dipping to cup her buttocks while the other held her fast. She moaned into the kiss as both their lips parted and tongues probed and danced.

Dorsetshire drew back from him to gulp down a lungful of air. It didn’t seem to matter how long their little sessions went on for, she was left breathless each time.

“I–” she started, but was cut off when Ian crashed against her, once more drawing her into a sloppy but heated kiss. She was vaguely aware that his stiffness was pressing against her stomach, able and eager and oh so willing. Thoughts of last night shot through her mind; how he touched her, made her feel like she was the only thing in the world that would ever matter to him.

And yet the funk persisted. A nagging voice telling her that she wasn’t human; that this… relationship was eventually doomed to failure and heartbreak; that–

She was distracted when the kiss was suddenly broken off on Ian’s end. A growing part of her had started to panic, though she knew it was stupid for her to do so. One of Ian’s large, warm hands brushed her cheek and cupped her chin, raising her face to lock eyes with him. For a while, he simply stared at her, and Dorsetshire began to wonder if she might have done something to kill the mood, so much so that she only caught the tail end of what Ian next said to her.

“–ve you…” he breathed.

Dorsetshire blinked, confused, and shook her head. “I’m sorry?”

“I love you,” he repeated, his voice just as low and rapturous as it had been the first time.

Dorsetshire froze. Surely she must have heard wrong. Love was something *people* shared after all, which meant that she was mistake–

“Oh my god,” he whispered, crushing her against him in a hug so tight it almost hurt, “I wish you knew just what you do to me. Each time you’re nearby my heart soars and I could sing and dance entire weeks away, and when you’re far I pine for you like a child pines for home. When you’re near I feel invincible; like there is nothing on this world that could conquer me. I’ve held my tongue so long but no longer–I have to know, love: feel you the same?”

His taste for the theatrical seeped into the spilling of his heart, but Dorsetshire knew Ian. There wasn’t a single syllable said even remotely in jest.

He meant it.

Every word.

Ian Thorpe loved her.

*Her.*

Vitality surged through her like a river. With sudden and unexpected strength, she snapped herself out of Ian’s grip and pushed him down with both hands.

“Ow!” Ian groaned, “Dorse? What th–”

He was cut off as Dorsetshire launched herself on top of him, her hair billowing out behind her like a scarlet cloak. She showered him in kisses even as she took hold of him and slammed herself down, driving him deeper inside of her than he’d ever reached before. She threw her head back and cried out in wondrous, blissful rapture.

“Fuck!” Ian gasped, his voice tinged with surprise and pleasure. “Dorse I–”

Neither Dorsetshire or Ian would be able to explain why it happened so quickly. A romantic would no doubt have attributed the shared climax to the sudden confession and confirmation of their respective feelings. An opposing argument might have made a case for them both being too worn out to go on for that long. Whatever the reason, Dorsetshire felt Ian spasm beneath her, which was quickly followed by the scalding sensation of his seed erupting from his rod like magma from a volcano. The feeling drove her over the edge and she screamed, only dimly aware that she was clamping down harder onto Ian, which had the same effect on him as he grabbed tightly onto her hips and bucked wildly, roaring like an animal.

And like that, it was over. Dorsetshire collapsed on top of Ian and slowly, weakly wrapped her arms around Ian’s panting form. He was still half-buried inside her and she could feel his shaft growing limp; a curious sensation, though not an unpleasant one. She craned her head to look up at Ian, who was already starting to drift into blissful unconsciousness, and pulled herself forward to give him one last, loving peck on the lips.

Her last thought as she began to nod off was of her earlier worries. They hadn’t left, of course, but she decided that they no longer mattered. She was a ship of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, and she was also ‘Dorse’, the woman who had fallen in love with an Officer of the fleet with a curious penchant for the dramatic.

In the end, she realised, she was happy.

And that, she reasoned, was good enough for her.