Izzy here, with my fanfic, “To Set the Stardust Ablaze,” the Fitzsimmons smut I’ve been trying to write for years, and this is my second attempt at writing it to while away the year-long hiatus. This time around, it’s post-season 6. Marvel owns them; I just hope they don’t really kill either of them off again.

To Set the Stardust Ablaze

By Izzy

The first time had Jemma watched one of these space storms, it had been early in their search for Fitz. She’d heard then about how dangerous and terrible they were, about how they would ravage anything too small, and how even bigger ships wanted to avoid them. Indeed, it was a good thing this one was a safe distance away.

But this was one time in her life, as she stood on the bridge with Fitz watching it, that Jemma was glad to see one. It meant it would be at least an hour before Agent Piper would be able to come get Fitz, and probably longer. And once she was able to come, the two of them wouldn’t see each other again until this was all over. They’d only been able to risk it when they needed to work together, and now the upgrades to the Zephyr were done, and Jemma could finish the work on the LMD on her own.

In the time since Enoch had first told them of their fate, Leo and Jemma Fitzsimmons had learned to make use of every moment in each company, especially the ones where there wasn’t any immediate actions for them to take. Now, even as they stared at the readings, Fitz had wrapped him arms around Jemma and pressed his face forward against her neck, and when they heard Flint confirm, “that portal’s not going to open until at least 1830,” Jemma said, “If anyone needs either of us before then, we’ll be in the ready room.”

It wasn’t actually a ready room, but a computer control center that happened to also be a small room off the bridge, drilled in because there hadn’t been room for all the upgraded equipment without it. All the Star Trek fans had called it the ready room until the name had stuck.

The consoles packed against three of the four walls limited the amount of space they had to maneuver. The only other thing in the room was a bench just big and strong enough to bear both their weights comfortably. Not the sort of thing Jemma would have seen herself even making out on, once upon a time, but things had definitely changed there. It wasn’t the first time she and Fitz had fallen onto the bench with their mouths already frantically pressed together. It wouldn’t even be the first time they’d done what she was absolutely doing if he was willing to go for it, and she was fairly confident he would be.

Though since they didn’t have to hurry right now, they weren’t going to. Fitz took the time to stroke her hair, run his fingers lightly over the back of her neck. That set her skin on fire, yet Jemma, too, took the time to kiss her way around his jaw, touch the bare skin of his neck, move down to feel it as his breath got faster.

It was Fitz who lost his patience first this time, finally moving his hands downward to cup at her breasts, stroke his fingers over the too thick cloth before reaching down to pull her jumper off, and her undershirt with it. He was wearing only an old button-up with two buttons missing; that was off even before Jemma’s bra was. Her hands found the skin of his bare back even has his mouth found her breasts; it was too sweaty already, but still warm, and Fitz gasped into her nipple at the stroke down his spine. His hands clung to her hips as if she might still slip away. Sometimes Jemma worried he’d never shake that fear entirely. “Fitz…” she started.

“Just,” he murmured. “Just…trying to stay in the moment…much as I can manage…”

That had been hard for him, every single time they’d done this since Enoch had started them doing what they’d needed to do. Jemma had discovered a way or two to help with that. She wrapped her legs tighter around his hips and pressed herself down. He wasn’t getting hard as fast as she would’ve liked, but he moaned into her chest and ground up against her. When Jemma slipped her fingers down into the top of Fitz’s trousers and ran the tips of her fingers over the sensitive spots on the small of his back and the top of his arse, he outright bucked, and she can tell he’d whimper her name if he could get the breath for it.

She had him so where she wanted him it was kind of a surprise when one of his hands left her hips, and only a second later was working on her fly. He’d gotten good at that, and Jemma let him do it, while she herself moved her hands back up.

Inevitably they found his heartbeat; they always did. It had been years, now, since Mack had walked in with the news that he was dead, since she had lain in that empty chamber and truly thought for a moment that that was it, since they’d prepared to blow themselves up in the Lighthouse. Since since since. Jemma dreamed of a time after all of this, when their lives wouldn’t be punctuated with such disasters, when perhaps they would finally retreat to that little cottage they’d dreamed about, maybe have their daughter. But she didn’t think she would ever take this for granted, feeling this statement of his being alive thudding against her palms.

It was probably for that same reason that he pressed his face against her pulse, even as those clever fingers found their way into her underwear, and two of them stroked her clit with practiced ease.

Jemma had learned over the years how to be quiet. Even so a tiny whimper escaped her. Fitz had hardly even needed the encouragement, rubbing her harder and raising his head to capture her mouth again. She moaned into his as she once again went for his arse. Even muffled, she really could get the most beautiful sounds out of him there. So many times she’d tried to memorize those sounds, but her memory never got them quite right. She ran her fingers around multiple times now, so she could hear them again and again.

But still that wasn’t the main purpose. And now, as they often were, the two of them were of the same mind. Jemma let go and stood up just long enough for them both to pull everything down, her getting her trousers and knickers down low enough to kick off, because that really would make this all easier, though Fitz didn’t have that kind of patience, only getting everything halfway down his thighs, which would be more than enough.

He did like having Jemma’s legs bare, though. He ran his hands up and down them as she wrapped them around him, then bent his head down to press his nose against the skin. She saw how he inhaled, a moment before his tongue was warm and wet on her thigh, and she giggled, “Want something?” They had time enough if he went quick. Although she did have to warn him, “I’m not returning the favor though, unless you think you can get it up twice.”

“Just want a wee taste,” he said, and she stood back up and let him tilt himself further down, maneuvering until he could get his tongue down between her labia. Light licks, meant to tease her, sending shivers of pleasure through her body and getting her more worked up, especially when he danced fingers around the tops of her thighs but didn’t quite press strong enough…

It wasn’t long at all before Jemma couldn’t take it anymore, and she shoved Fitz back hard enough he nearly toppled backwards over the bench. When he had his balance back, she got back into his lap, then wrapped her hand around his cock, enjoying the tiny moan that came out of him as she positioned them both. Just skin on skin now. They ran out of condoms months ago, and for some time refrained from intercourse. But now they’re coming down to it, and Jemma has to believe this will all be over in a month or so at worst. If she got pregnant now, they’d be ready for their daughter by the time she was actually born.

She kissed him hungrily as she took him in, and Fitz pushed hard, pressing his body to hers in every way they could do it, his arms banding against her back with the strength he’d still never lost after first gaining it in the prison cell. Jemma could give as good as she got there, moving her hips in perfect rhythm with his, fingers finding his nipples-it was only a little more than a year ago they discovered he liked her nails on them.

“Jemma…” Fitz groaned; she never loved her name more than when he was saying it like that. “Jem…I’m too close…”

“Not yet,” she hissed. “This doesn’t end yet.” Though for her too it was building too fast, that glorious pressure in her groin and incessant ache in her clit-much contact with that and she’d be done for already.

“Donwanitto,” Fitz agreed, but she could tell from the way he arms were getting tighter around her that he only had so much left in him. She moved her nails from his front to his back and dug them in. He grunted in protest, then thrust into her hard enough Jemma let a single loud cry escape her throat before she hastily pressed their mouths back together. Fitz moved once of her arms around, quick as lightening, pressed down on her clit, and did it a second time, and with him so close Jemma didn’t even try to fight it. She went under with her face mashed against his, feeling him shudder as he came inside her.

In the first timeline, they had created Deke’s mother here, out in the cold and terrifying wonders of space. For all their joking about it, Jemma honestly didn’t know if their first child would be her or not, though if it was a girl they’d give her the right name. But it gave her comfort either way, to think that they could create a wonder of their own out here, one she would hopefully bear safely home to keep.

But even if they weren’t able to conceive their child here, they still had this moment, the two of them locked together, bodies still coming down from the height, breathing together amid all the metal surrounding them.

The smell of sex in the air in such a place was going to get obnoxiously strong, but Jemma welcomed it. She pressed her nose up to Fitz’s hair, trying to memorize how it felt against her skin.

Fitz spoke for both of them when he said, “I wish it would never be 1830. I wish we could stay in this room forever.”

“1830. I don’t think we’re likely to go that far back in time,” Jemma said, and it got them both to laugh. “And he did say ‘at least 1830.’ We could stay here until they come to take us out. They’ll probably knock first. At the very least, it must have occurred to them that we might be doing what we’ve been doing.”

“Sounds good. Though we might want to get dressed before then. We’re going to get cold.”

“You’re probably right,” said Jemma, but she really didn’t want to.

Around them, the beeping of the computers has increased a bit. That probably meant the storm was getting worse, though if there was any real danger to the Zephyr there would be more beeps and someone coming to get them. This was just more chaos and danger raging outside the walls currently holding them.

“We’re still unstoppable together, right?” Fitz murmured. “We’ve done this for years, more of it out of each other’s company than in, and it’s just a little while longer, and we’ll be on the line with each other the entire time.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’m so tired, you know. There are times I want to scream, and I know I’ll feel like I can’t now, not until this is done. You have the harder job here, I know, being the one who has to wait around, and yet…”

“Believe me, I would happily switch, if not for the fact that each of us needs to do our particular role,” he said. “I wish…I wish so much…”

But what more was there even to wish, besides that time would do something different from what it would inevitably do? Even when they’d changed the future, they couldn’t speed up the time periods they actually had to be in to get things done. The only way out of this one was through.

When he moved to kiss her again, Jemma tried to pour everything inside her into it. That was impossible with how much she felt for this man, but she had to try, to give him everything this cruel universe kept depriving them both of, a flame to keep him warm, until they finally battled their way to the time when they truly wouldn’t ever have to be apart again.