ΔV Pt. 03

The view switched, suddenly, to a fish eyed lens. It rapidly approached the stone structure and the masses of people surrounding it. The people resolved into armored figures, carrying what looked like long poles, tipped with metal. Spears, Lucas realized, his eyes widening as he saw fluttering flags – all done in black and white. The green pinpricks were massive fires that had clearly been doused with borax to make them burn green. An intimidation tactic? He knew he'd be terrified if that many people had stood around his house.

Except it wasn't a house.

It was a castle.

There was a large wall, thronging with people in armor that glittered brilliantly even with the sun beginning to set over the horizon. More stood upon large towers that marked each corner of the castle, though those manned primitive looking siege weapons that Lucas had seen in films and historical documentaries, whose names escaped him. Helen whistled, softly, and Lucas could hear what she wasn't saying: Well, those folks are fucked.

"Heat signature!" The pilot snapped.

"I see it- balls!" Helen swore as the camera showed a darting, flaring missile shooting towards the drone. "There's no laser track, it must be a heat seeker."

"How can be heat seeking, the drone's barely warmer than a b-" The pilot snapped back – tension tightening in their voice.

The flaming missile rushed at the camera and Lucas jerked backwards, his heart leaping into his throat as the screen turned to a blur of static.

"Okay, shuttle," the bridge officer who was handling things from the Enterprise spoke up, his voice calm. "Return home, we've gotten enough information for now."

"Aye, sir," the pilot said.

Lucas, though, shook his head.

If you asked him...all they had gotten were more questions.

***

Anne's hands planted to either side of Dale's head as she looked down into his warm black eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as she ducked her head down, her hair creating a small curtain between them and the rest of the world. She moved slowly. Gently. The only sound that escaped where their bodies joined was the faintest of slick, wet noises, and the only hint that Dale was doing anything but sleeping was that his teeth sometimes clicked as he bit back his moan. Anne herself had to bite her lower lip to keep from moaning herself as she felt Dale's member entering her.

God, she thought. I needed this.

Dale's hands gripped her ass and she felt an up-swelling of pleasure and passion as she leaned forward, kissing him.

Hard.

Anne knew that their attempts at subterfuge were...almost farcical. Ever since Dale had arrived, her aunt and her younger brothers had teased her about finding a new boyfriend. At first, she had been offended in a kind of haughty, oh please kind of way. But Dale had needed a lot of her help to get used to being in the Enclave. When they had finally gotten a chance to bring him into San Fran to give the federal government a chance to find him. And, as luck would have it, they had. She had sat next to him in the office as the smiling woman in the office they had been ushered into said: "Ah! Found you!"

His full name was Dale Winters. He had been born in California, eighteen years ago, to a fundamentalist pair of Opters – people who opted out of modern conveniences. They had joined a commune in the Rockies...and there, things became sketchy. They had called in an emergency MediCore evac for Dale a year ago after he had caught Lethe – a warplague from the bloody end of the 21^st century. It was one of the more pernicious ones, according to the smiling woman.

Anne had never heard of it.

But then again, there were like, fifty fucking warplagues, so...

Lethe damaged certain memory structures in the brain, causing targeted amnesia. This strain was more broad spectrum, and the MediCore hadn't managed to fully sweep it out of Dale and his parents had taken him back. Then blank, then...he had shown up. Some investigation by the cops came up with a semi reasonable story: That he had left his parents, either while his memory was behaving itself, or when he had just had a wipe...and he'd wandered, naked and confused, through the ruins until...

Anne.

MediCore, though, had some new treatments. They showed up via drone every week, and Dale grumbled about the injections, but so far, his memories hadn't collapsed again. So, Anne and her family had taken him in. Mom and Dad both hated Opters on general principle – even if Mom sometimes looked guilty when she grumbled about them, as if she was worried she was being religiously bigoted – and Gloria was 'always in favor of some fresh eyecandy.'

Dale's first weeks with an actual history had been...

Hard.

Anne had needed to get to work eventually, but she had begged Mr. Finch for a week off. Mr. Finch had grumbled, groaned, complained, then threatened to cut her wages in half, until she had threatened him with a call to her union. So, Mr. Finch had relented and Anne had taken a week to show Dale around and...slowly, his sadness at losing an entire life, his anger at having parents whose misguided religious views had left him like this, his dislocation at being in a world he simply did not know...it started to fade.

Under the sadness, under the anger, under the dislocation, there was someone who was warm. And funny. Like, Anne had been shocked how many times a dry comment from Dale had made her shoot water out of her nose while she sipped from her water. And once she had started heading back to Mr. Finch's place to work, Dale found his own vocation to help the enclave survive. He was good with his hands and he learned real quick – soon, he'd picked up a job as the apprentice for the local blacksmith and mechanic.

Anne had been riding home, listening to Dan Chaps talking about the USS Enterprise arriving at the Janus Wormhole, when she realized she was barely paying attention because she was, instead, thinking of what she was going to do with Dale when she got home. She slammed on the brakes as hard as she could and the bike nearly skidded out from under her. The automatic kickstand shot out and Anne stumbled off the bike seat, clutching to the handles, her eyes wide as saucers.

"Holy shit," Anne whispered. "Y-You...like Dale."

No shit, her brain hissed. What are you, fucking twelve!?

She started peddling again. As she peddled, she didn't even bother unpausing her podcast. Instead, she said: "So, Dale, uh, there's a new Spiderman movie coming out. It's by, uh, a director whose really good with the character, wanna, uh, wanna..." She trailed off. "No. Maybe an art film? Well, wait, there's a Spiderman art film by Takata..." She bit her lip, hard, then bounced on a pothole hard enough to nearly draw blood. "Ow!"

When she reached the enclave, she peddled through the gate, past the lawns, and to the machine shop. She kicked out the kickstand and slid off the bike, whispering to herself. "Just...be casual!" She said, nodding. "Beee casual. Casual like a casual-bee." She made fingerguns, then stepped around the doorway and looked inside.

The machine shop had been configured to its blacksmithing shop. The anvil was deployed and the electric furnace was glowing and humming ominously. Dale was shirtless and standing before the anvil, a hammer in his hand as he brought it smashing down into a small knot of black metal, blue-white sparks flaring into the air with each impact of his hammer. His skin had become more and more tanned the longer he had lived at the enclave, giving him the look of a bronzed, Greek god. The fact that he was also flecked with a fine sheen of sweat so he also looked as if he had been freshly oiled just added even more fire to Anne's belly. She wasn't sure how long she stood there, watching, breathing in the varied scents of the machine shop – mixing into a melange of oil, electric heat, sparks, and the faint tingle of Dale's body.

Anne only knew that she had been standing there for too long when Dale set down the hammer, picked up his piece, then doused it in the oil barrel. As steam hissed and bubbled into the air, he glanced at her. He grinned his shy little smile. "Enjoying the show, Anne?"

"Uhhh..." Anne blinked, then shook her whole body. "Uh. Yeah. Yeah." She blushed. "I, uh...so, um...uh..." She wrung her hands, stepping into the machine shop. "I'm, uh, I'm glad that you're...you're..."

Dale pulled out the piece he was working on – it looked like a piece of modern art, not like something to go into an oxcart or a bike. But Anne had no time to look at the knot of black metal. She was too busy admiring the way Dale's muscles shifted beneath his skin, moving like a well oiled machine. His grin grew just a bit wider. "You sound like you've caught a computer virus, Anne," he said, cheerfully. He stepped forward, his voice soft. "Also, you're still in your bike outfit."

"Uhhh," Anne said, her body trembling. How had he gotten so close so...fast?

Dale's finger caught her chin, lifting her head back. "Yes," he said, softly.

Anne blinked. "Y-Yes?" She whispered.

"Yes, I will gladly take you out on a date," he murmured, softly. "That's why you came, right?"

"Mmmhmm!" Anne said, unable to quite form words at the moment. Her eyes fluttered slowly shut as Dale leaned in and he kissed her. The first kiss, the second kiss, the third kiss – each kiss she ever shared with Dale felt the same: Electric. His tongue swept into her mouth and his free hand cupped Anne's back, sliding along the curve of her spine. When he drew back, Anne felt as if she was somewhere near Venus' orbit. Her head spun. Her heart hammered. Her nipples ached. She breathed, very softly. "Dale, can you take me to my room and just fuck my brains out?"

"Ahh, there," Dale murmured, his voice filled with warmth. "Finally got a coherent sentence out of you."

Anne's hands closed around Dale's hand, tugging him out of the machine shop. She looked around hurriedly – the enclave was bustling and busy, with people out in the fields, weeding and tending to the plants. The very idea of doing that work flashed Anne back to before she had gotten a job with Mr. Finch and she felt her good mood popping like a series of balloons. But she forced her attention to the task of getting her and Dale back to the family house – making sure to circle around and head towards the back of her house, skimming along the inside of the wall. This meant that the houses she passed were between her and Dale and the rest of the farmers.

It also meant that the two of them were able to head up the stair to the second story porch and immediately enter into the upstairs living room – which tended to have less people inside of it. They lucked out: Conversation was burbling from downstairs, with the clink and clatter of dishes. Dale flashed Anne a grin and Anne felt her knees tremble.

They had barely gotten the door to her room closed before Dale was on her again. Anne had half expected to have to guide and lead anything involving dating or kissing. After all, he was an Opter. Even if he was an Opter with amnesia. But Dale either had learned this as fast as he learned everything else – or he had almost two decades worth of boy hormones built up in his body, and his strict religious upbringing had pent them inside. Then Anne lost the ability to think coherently. Between his lips kissing their smoldering way down his throat and his hand sliding along her belly, all she could do was feel.

Feel his warm, rough fingers sliding under the sleek edge of her bike suit. Feel him caressing the hairless triangle of flesh right above her sex. Feel him finding and teasing her clit. He rubbed her pearl in a gentle circle, and Anne opened her mouth to moan openly. But then, the thundering sound of children's feet scampering by her room and to some other room in the house made her clap a hand over her mouth, muffling herself as Dale slid behind her. His free hand cupped her breast, and then he slid two fingers into her sex, fingering her eagerly. He purred in her ear. "Shall we keep things quiet then?"

Anne, trembling, nodded.

She...rather enjoyed the first way that Dale kept her quiet. He kissed her. Hard. His tongue swirled in her mouth as his fingers thrust into her sex and Anne felt her own orgasm rushing towards her like the edge of a cliff. Her eyes fluttered shut and she moaned into his mouth as her sex clenched on his fingers. She felt her belly muscles tightening and she swore she saw a white flare of stars as her knees turned to water. She sagged against Dale – and he broke the kiss, whispering hungrily, his breath hot against her face.

"Now, about that fucking you wanted..."

Anne laid back onto her bed, wriggling weakly. Somehow, with the help of Dale's hands, this managed to make her naked. Dale, too, was naked – just as she had seen him on their first day. She panted, softly, spreading her legs wantonly, her knee bumping against the wall as Dale slid two fingers along her belly, down to her sex. He lifted his fingers up, then slowly licked the tips, grinning. "Have I mentioned I love that you're hairless?"

"Mmm, thanks," she mumbled.

Dale leaned down over her, his knees pressing to the bed under her thighs – his cock slipping and sliding along her sex. She was so fucking wet, she couldn't believe it. Anne had had sex before. She'd fumbled with someone in high school. She'd tried it out with a girl in San Fran during her college years. But she'd never had...she'd never been...

It'd never been like this.

Dale's eyes met hers and he murmured softly – the words unfamiliar. It was a strange, musical language, she swore she'd heard it before. "Is that French?" She mumbled – then groaned as he slid into her. Her sex felt virgin tight around the length and girth of his cock. There was a faint twinge inside of her – she felt stretched. Deliciously so. But then Dale began to move. His balls gently slapped against her ass as he clung to her, panting as he fucked her into the bed. Anne's pleasure mounted as he kissed her neck, then her mouth...and then, with a final thrust, he pinned her into the bed. Her back arched and she moaned into his hand as he clapped her mouth shut. "Mmmhh!"

His cum spurted inside of her.

And that?

That was that.

Anne was in love. Madly. Head over heels. Every chance she got, she'd find a way to drag Dale aside and just...fuck him. Every night, either she would creep into his room or he'd creep into hers. Sometimes, he would slip into her shower. And...part of Anne knew that Gloria kept shooting her suspicious looks and Dad did ask her several times over the weeks that followed if she'd had her contraceptive shots for the month. And Mom just...smiled. Which weirded Anne out.

Which came to this evening. Anne had chosen riding atop Dale, his hands squeezing her ass. Their pleasure rushed through them, joining them together as Anne choked back her moan as she felt his cum filling her. God. She was pretty sure she'd never get tired of that feeling, that lovely, warm feeling. She sprawled against his chest and Dale chuckled. "Planning on squishing me?" he murmured, softly.

Anne giggled.

"So..." Dale murmured. "I've got a question." His finger twined around her hair. Anne's heart skipped a beat. Was it going to be a good question? A bad? She gulped and tried to empty her head of any and all possibilities – because she knew if she let herself just think wildly, she'd start worrying about him dumping her or something. Dale, as if he noticed her sudden brain activity, chuckled. "It's not a bad question. Just a weir done."

"Oh. Uh. Sure." Anne turned her head to press her face against his chest, breathing in his scent.

Dale's finger twined more of her hair around his finger. "Your last name is DuPont, right?"

Anne snorted. "Yeah?"

"And I was reading the newsfeeds," he said. "And the captain of the ship that went through the Janus wormhole – the Enterprise? His name is DuPont too."

"There are more, like, there are a bunch of DuPonts!" She snickered, then squirmed against Dale. She managed, somehow, to keep herself molded against Dale and reach halfway off the bed to her nightstand. She got her handheld into her hands, where it belonged, and started to search her way through the internet genetic database. She pursed her lips. "Huh...there's a linkage between our families! My...oh..." She sighed. "He married my dad's sister, before..." She shook her head slightly.

"Wait, he married your aunt?" Dale asked. "And took her name?"

"Yeah, some men do that, it's a feminist thing," Anne closed her eyes, leaning against his chest.

"So...there's a link?" Dale murmured.

"Tenuous, I guess," Anne said, her eyes closing together as she sprawled on him. "Mmm, you're comfy...why do you care?"

Dale chuckled. "I guess I'm just excited to be linked – even distantly – to the whole wormhole thing. It's just so exciting. It feels like...I lost my memory, but I've still got a whole new world to look forward to. You know?"

Anne snored.

Dale chuckled, then whispered. "Sleep well, my love."

He looked at the ceiling and, very gently, plucked a single stray hair from Anne's pillow. He looked at the hair, to ensure it was the right color and length, then sat up and reached out. He slipped the hair into the nightstand's drawer – where it could be recovered later.

His smile was even wider as he slipped into sleep after his lover.