16 #2
Of course, Pulse had to touch Quark. With Leo between them, moaning and leading them through the motions, Pulse held onto Quark's thighs, their thumbs running along a sensitive nerve on the inside.
Unlike Leo, Quark was solid, firm, dense, and wrapped in a delicate pink-gray skin. His legs quivered with each of Leo's hip grinds and Pulse's strokes of his thighs.
The strangeness of the situation evolved into a second nature.
Pulse no longer questioned the sensations, the flutters in their stomach, the performance anxiety, the unnatural bolts of pleasure.
There was only Leo and Quark; the rest of the world may as well not be there. They were all that mattered.
The energy built to a loud crescendo. A cosmic thunder in Pulse's mind.
This deep thumping in their core only increased in tempo as the three fueled each other's demands.
Every thrust, every touch, and every keen made Pulse feel unbearably high with pleasure that reached into their chest, burning hotter than they thought possible.
It shot through them like a chaotic storm, from the chest to their stomach, into their groin.
They could feel it: the alien and breathtaking high of release.
They almost choked on the release. It was too sudden and it caught them off guard.
If they had not stiffened their bodies, they would have fell onto Quark and Leo and crushed them.
Holding steady and strong, they inhaled Leo’s scent, using that to ground themselves when they felt like the world was about to fall out from under their feet.
Hearing the beautiful, loud, gasping cries as Quark joined in the release.
Leo's high is much more disciplined compared to her stars.
She was the ground that kept them from floating away into blissful nothingness, helping them lie down, cooing at them, and kissing them as a reward.
"You two were amazing," she kissed Quark on the cheek, rubbing his chest as he struggled for a steady breath. "You did wonderful, honey, Shh..."
She pulled Pulse close, who became limp as soon as they felt dry, smooth sheets. A slow and soft kiss on their lips helped restart their inner dialog. "You okay, darling?"
Pulse half smiled, no energy left to curl the other side of their mouth, "Fabulous... wonderful... tired..."
Her laugh was melodic. Leo's arms wrapped around Quark's neck, pulling his head to her breasts, while she took Pulse's hand and kissed each of their knuckles, "we will have to do that again."
"Please..." Quark murmured, finally catching a deep breath.
As she played with Quark's hair, she sighed. That is when the stars noticed she was becoming transparent, "Damn it, I'm waking up."
"Do you have to go?" Quark held onto her, thinking maybe that would keep her from fading away.
"Oh hon," she kissed him where his nose would be, moving away the hair he so adamantly refused to keep out of his face, "I'll be back soon. I have to make it to my class. I promise the wait will be worth it."
Pulse rubbed her fingers, kissing her on the top of her head while there was something to touch, "And we will be here; we will be here forever."
"Such a romantic..." her fading voice teased.
Though pointless, Quark and Pulse held onto her, hoping deep down that would make her stay a second more. Before long, it was just the two of them, barely a foot apart.
Quark held still, spaced out and his breathing deep and languid.
Pulse watched, studying every feature while Quark's eyes were closed. They took note of the strong ridges along his brow but the soft sculpting of his jaw. Every movement, from how his hand shifted to under his cheek, to his chest.
'The perfect balance of strength and grace,' Pulse commented in their thoughts. 'Just perfect.'
Quark opened his eyes, catching Pulse in the act of staring so unabashedly. "Something the matter?"
"No, no, not at all," Pulse rushed to explain, "I mean, you're—You're very easy on the eyes, that's all."
"You are such an awful flirt..." Yet Quark was smiling.
"I mean it. You're fucking ripped."
"You sure know how to stroke someone's ego," Quark nudged against Pulse's calf with his foot, "We should get dressed."
"I'm not going to bother, I'm too exhausted."
Quark closed his eyes again with a sigh, "Me too... me too..."
Quark’s hand was open between them, laying there, alone and still. Pulse pictured themselves taking it, giving each finger a brush of their lips..
A voice that was not their own, but the universe, was nagging them. Here is your chance.
Pulse pulled the fluffy comforter over Quark. "Rest easy..."
The voice called to them again: You goddamn, love-struck idiot.
The light dimmed behind his eyelids.
Pulse sat up, leaning their back against the maple headboard, feeling that trembling giddiness in their chest. Luckily their jacket was next to the bed, so they pulled out a smoke, lit it with zippo, and pulled in long, savoring drags.
Outside, the city began to fade. The mesh between space and dreams became obvious as each building faded into darkness.
Once again, Quark's conscience sought out Pulse's touch, scooting until his head rested on their thigh, and he was calm.
Pulse couldn't resist stroking his hair.
They ran their fingers through, careful they didn't wake Quark, fearing that if he did awaken, he would avoid the pulsar out of embarrassment.
Pulse knew that he would be over the unintentional snuggling.
Every stroke drew a glowing pattern on his skin, eliciting a sleeping smile from the white dwarf.
'It's not fair,' Pulse lambasted themselves. 'You sleep on me every night, and I can't even risk a kiss.'
Next time. Next time, tell him.
It was their most moving performance yet.
"I knew you were good, but that performance! So moving! So powerful! You never stop amazing us, Pulse!"
The hymn has always been their best song. It was one of the newer ones, given the relative time of the age of the universe. Black Star performed it several times but always said the song was made for Pulse. It was the song that launched them into stardom.
Their voice was sent out to the cosmos, reaching the infinite corners in search of the silver thread needed for their tapestry. Calling out, shouting their rhapsody, and breaking down the barriers between the realities. He wasn't here and that was no longer acceptable.
This dream was elusive. Every night the lines between logic and sensibility gave way to fantasy.
In hopeless romanticism, they called out to them in every way but saying their name.
Everyone in the universe—stars and the wonderless dreamers—applauded the symphony, yet Pulse couldn't find the one voice they wanted to hear.
Every night, the dreams called back to them because he was there. That was the only world he existed in, and every night, dreaming was the new reality.