In Space, Noone Can Hear You Brawl by Guy Incognito

They weren’t enemies, per se, but they definitely weren’t friends. They were the kind of coworkers who would meet in the kitchen, chat politely about the weather, and then go their separate ways once the kettle had boiled. They wouldn’t be meeting up after work to hang out like they might do with their other colleagues, but for the most part they would go about their lives without conflict. In a normal workplace, they would simply keep out of each other’s way, and everything would be fine.

They did not work in a normal workplace. Sally and Yelena were both astronauts, and their current place of work—and their home—was the International Space Station, 400 kilometres above the Earth’s surface. Sharing a workspace with an incompatible personality can be challenging a times; sharing a living space, even more so. When that living space is as cramped and as isolated as the ISS, even the best of friendships will strain. Small differences in personality become pronounced, minor issues can fester, and dislike can easily turn to resentment.

The duo had many such differences; discrepancies in personality that caused them to rub up against one another from time to time. Sally was a hard-worker; conscientious in her duties, and a stickler for the rules. At least, that was how she would describe herself; behind closed doors, Yelena preferred words such as “stuck-up”, “bossy” and “know-it-all”. Yelena was laid-back by comparison; she liked to keep things casual, and do things her own way. Sally favoured descriptors like  “irresponsible”, “unprofessional” and “lazy”.

Despite all of their differences, the two maintained a level of professional courtesy; you don’t get to the point they had in their career by being the kind of person who lets themselves be dragged into petty rivalries in the workplace. While at work, the two women had little trouble keeping their feelings in check; with a full team aboard the station, they rarely had to spend too long alone together. Any disagreements that did arise were quickly mediated by colleagues.

Unfortunately, this state of affairs wouldn’t last; typically, the station had a crew of around seven people. Recently however, the number of crew members had reduced dramatically. Alan, Mae and Chris had all finished their mission, and had returned to Earth. Thanks to delays, their replacements were not due to return for a few weeks. Kalpana had ended her mission early due to a family emergency down below, and Alexei had returned to Earth to attend the birth of his child. This left only Sally and Yelena, alone on the station with the crewmate they liked the least.

Over the course of their first week together, tensions had started to build; the increased time they spent in each other’s exclusive company, combined with the additional stress of trying to keep a space station running with only two pairs of hands had caused existing differences to exacerbate. Sally was growing frustrated with Yelena’s laid-back attitude and refusal to adhere to the rules. Yelena found herself resenting her crewmate’s overbearing natures, and her insistence that everything be done the way she wanted it done. Gradually, their arguments became more and more frequent, and the veneer of professional politeness began to thin.

Everything came to a head on the eighth day alone on the station.

Sally was irritated before the day had even begun. The day’s tasks were scheduled to start at 7am sharp. The time was now 8:30, and her crewmate was nowhere to be seen. She was hunched over her workspace, desperately attempting a two person task with one pair of hands when Yelena floated into the room, yawning and stretching.

“Morning!” the Russian yawned. “Sorry I’m late, I overslept.”

Sally felt a pang of annoyance. Sorry I’m late? Almost two hours late for her shift and that feeble apology was all she got?

“Come help me with this,” Sally snapped without turning, hardly bothering to hide her irritation.

Yelena rolled her eyes. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be right over. I need to grab some breakfast first.”

Sally paused. Was this bitch serious? She reminded herself to take a deep, calming breath before responding.

“Look, you’re already late. We’re running behind on these experiments, so could you please come over and help me with this? You can get something to eat right after.”

Yelena frowned. She’s been mildly amused by the other woman’s tone before, but now her condescension was starting to grate.

“I’ll only be five minutes,” she replied, irritation creeping into her voice. “The experiment can wait a little longer, surely!”

Sally gently placed her equipment down, turning to face Yelena for the first time. When she caught sight of the other woman, her scowl deepened. The cosmonaut wore a grey tank top and plain black shorts, her feet bare. Her back length blonde hair floated freely about her head.

Yelena hadn’t failed to notice Sally’s reaction to her attire; she’d been expecting it. The American woman wore the full uniform of the station; a blue jumpsuit and black boots. Her shoulder length brown hair was tied back in a ponytail as uptight as the woman sporting it.

The two astronauts stared at one another with naked irritation. A long moment passed in silence, neither willing to break the fragile peace, but equally unwilling to back down.

Finally, Yelena decided to extend an olive branch. “Just let me grab a snack, and I’ll be right back. I’ll be two minutes at most.”

Sally considered arguing further, but decided against it. She shot the other woman a curt nod.

Yelena took this as permission, and spun herself around. As she did so, her mane of unruly blonde hair fanned out from her head. The reminder of the flagrant rule violation triggered something in Sally, her irritation bubbling to the surface.

“You really should have your hair tied up you know.” she muttered.

Yelena had almost reached the edge of the room when she heard Sally’s grating voice from behind her. Bracing herself against a wall, she whipped back around to address her coworker.

“What was that?” she demanded.

“Your hair,” Sally repeated, louder this time. “You should tie it up. It could get caught in something. Or it could get in your eyes while you’re working and block your vision. It’s a safety hazard to leave it down like that.” She gestured towards her own ponytail as an example of how to do it right.

Yelena folded her arms. “It’s really not that big a deal. I always have my hair like this and I’ve never caught it in anything.”

Sally bristled. “The rules state that any long hair must be tied up at all times. Those rules are there for a reason, you know!”

Yelena laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, the rules! I forgot about them. You so rarely bring them up! Are they the same rules that say that you’re always right, and that you get to tell the rest of us what to do?”

“They’re not my rules,” Sally shot back. “They’re the station’s rules. And I can count a dozen violations this morning alone.” She counted on her fingers. “Hair not tied back, inappropriate uniform, improper footwear, tardiness…”

“‘Improper footwear’?” Yelena scoffed. “Why the hell do we need to wear ‘proper’ footwear?

Are my toes going to get caught in the machinery too?”

Sally opened her mouth to retort, but found she didn’t have an answer. She followed the rules as a matter of habit, no questions asked; most of them were there for a reason, after all. But even Sally had to admit that wearing large, cumbersome boots in an environment where your feet rarely touched any surface seemed redundant.

Yelena revelled in her coworkers inability to retort. She pushed off of the wall, slowly drifting across the open room.

“There’s nothing wrong, is there?” she said, smugly. “You just wanted an excuse to tell somebody else what to do! You love bossing people around!”

Sally’s inability to think of a response had only made her more irritated. She saw the other woman approaching and reciprocated, pushing off of the work surface behind her to propel herself towards the Russian.

“Maybe people just don’t want to have to look at your gross ass feet!” she spat.

They slowed to a stop feet away from one another. They glared into one another’s eyes, a week’s worth of irritation visible on their faces.

“My feet aren’t gross, you arrogant bitch!” Yelena snapped, her voice starting to rise.

“Don’t call me a bitch, you lazy whore!” Sally yelled back.

“Uptight  prude!”

“Dirty skank!”

“Self-righteous cunt!”

SMACK

Sally hadn’t meant to do it. She was as shocked as Yelena when her open hand lashed out and struck the blonde woman’s cheek. She’d seen red as the argument reached a crescendo and hadn’t been able to stop herself. Yelena began to drift to the left from the force of the slap, her face a picture of shock.

The two women stared at one another, mouths agape, equally stunned at how things had progressed. Yelena raised a hand to her quickly reddening cheek.

“Yelena, I…” Sally started to say.

SMACK

Yelena’s hand caught her on the left cheek, slowly propelling her to the right. She raised a hand to her own stinging cheek in surprise, never breaking eye contact. The cosmonaut’s eyes were burning with anger, her shock vanished.

Something snapped.

SMACK

This time was no accident; Sally’s palm struck the opposite cheek, rocking Yelena’s head to the right.

SMACK

This time, there was no hesitation. Yelena’s counter attack reddened Sally’s other cheek and sent the woman spinning towards the wall. A moment passed in serene silence; the calm before the storm.

Then came the storm.

SMACK

SMACK

SMACK

SMACK

The two astronauts began to rain slaps down on each other, striking faces, arms and chests with wild abandon. As the flurry of blows intensified, the fighters began to drift apart. Instinctively, Sally reached out to prevent the other woman from escaping her range, latching onto Yelena’s mane of untied blonde hair and pulling tight. Letting out a yelp of pain and annoyance, Yelena reached around the American’s back, gripping her ponytail and pulling downwards.

They continued to slap at each other with their free hand, clutching one another tight with the other. Their scalps burned as their grips tightened, their faces growing ever redder from the onslaught.

The slapping stopped as Sally brought both hands into her opponents hair. Yelena kept a handful of ponytail, latching onto the neck of her enemy’s jumpsuit with her other hand. They pulled each other close, spinning in the air with the momentum of the previous slap fight. Their eyes met, faces inches apart.

“Let go of my fucking hair, bitch!” Yelena groaned, giving a sharp tug to the other woman’s ponytail.

“You fucking let go, cunt!” Sally yelled back, pulling with both hands and earning a groan of pain from her rival.

For a moment they clinched in the air, wrenching at one another’s hair. Then, as if by mutual agreement, they released their grips. They shoved each other violently, launching themselves backwards into opposite walls with a thud.

For a moment, they simply floated, backs to the walls, breathing heavily from the exertion of the sudden brawl. Neither broke their gaze.

“What the fuck is wrong with you bitch?!” Yelena shouted. “You fucking pulled my hair!”

“You’re the bitch! You grabbed me first!” Sally shouted back.

“Only because you slapped me you stupid twat!” Yelena retorted.

“Come over here and I’ll do it again!”

With twin growls, the two women pushed off of their respective walls, launching at each other. They collided hard in the centre of the room, immediately locking up. Yelena grasped Sally’s ponytail with both hands, yanking with all her strength and wrenching the American’s head back. Sally retaliated by gripping handfuls of the Russian woman’s hair and tugging harshly in either direction. Both women yelped in pain as their opponent tore at their hair.

Their legs drifted apart until they floated horizontally, head to head, legs pointing in opposite directions. Before long, the relentless tugging loosened Sally’s ponytail and her hair cascaded around her face. Yelena attacked the loosened locks with renewed vigour. The air around them was soon filled with loose strands of hair, blonde and brown in equal measure.

They drifted as they dueled. Yelena felt her bare feet connect with a wall of the station. She kicked off, pushing herself into her enemy. Her forehead smacked against the other woman’s, their bodies rotating until they were chest to chest. Their momentum carried them to the other wall, and Sally’s body was crushed between the wall and the Russian.

The impact knocked the breath out of both combatants, and they released their grips on the other’s hair. Yelena bounced off and started to drift away. She managed to grab a wall with one hand as she did, flinging herself back towards the other woman, intent on pinning her. Seeing this, Sally launched herself off of the wall to meet her halfway.

Yelena spun as she flew, her awkward grip on the wall throwing off her trajectory. Instead of colliding with Sally face to face as she’d anticipated, she collided with the other woman’s chest, feet first. Sally let out an involuntary “oof” as the wind was knocked out of her. She recovered quickly, snarling as she grabbed the other woman’s bare feet and began to claw at the exposed skin. Yelena shrieked, flailing and kicking her legs in an attempt to push her enemy away.

Unfortunately for Yelena, Sally had a tight grip on her shins and wouldn’t let go. The Russian woman changed her strategy, managing to get a grip on the wall and spinning herself until the two women were head to toe. Yelena grasped her opponent’s legs, but the heavy boots she wore didn’t leave any bare skin to attack. She continued to kick with her bare feet, striking at Sally’s face, connecting with her chin. Without taking her hands off of her enemy’s feet, Sally retaliated with a kick of her own. Yelena saw stars as the heavy boot connected with her head.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on either woman; Yelena’s bare feet, the catalyst for this entire disagreement, were now putting her at a significant disadvantage.

“Bet you wish you were wearing proper footwear now, huh?” Sally crooned, revelling in smug satisfaction as she struck out again with her boot, feeling it crunch into the other woman’s nose.

Tasting blood, Yelena wrapped her arms tight around her rival’s legs in an attempt to keep them at bay. She struck out with her bare feet, slapping against the other woman’s face. Undeterred, Sally gripped the feet pressing up against her face, clawing the soft flesh. The other woman’s squeals of pain were music to her ears.

Yelena knew she was at a disadvantage, her bare feet no match the heavy boots. If she couldn’t find a way to even the playing field, she didn’t stand a chance in this fight. Releasing her grip on the other woman’s ankles, she grasped her left boot with both hands and tugged hard. Sally frowned, realising what Yelena was trying to do. She kicked out with her free boot, connecting with the woman’s cheek.

Yelena ignored it. Sally kicked out again and again, connecting with the other woman’s face, arms, chest and breasts. Yelena made no attempt to block the attacks, focussing all of her efforts on ripping off her rival’s footwear, persevering through the pain.

Sally kicked and flailed her restrained foot in an attempt to dislodge the would-be boot thief. Unfortunately for her, her movements only served to help Yelena to wiggle the shoe free. As Yelena gave one last good tug, Sally felt her left boot slip off of her foot.

Letting out a noise of triumph, Yelena wasted no time in pressing the attack. She tugged the American woman’s white sock down to the heel, revealing a stretch of bare flesh. Sally braced herself for the sensation of claws raking against her bare flesh; she was caught off guard when she felt teeth sink into the heel of her foot. The euphoria Yelena felt at her enemy’s outraged shriek more than made up for the pain in her own face.

Recovering quickly from her initial shock, Sally retaliated with gusto. She sank her own teeth into her rival’s bare toes, drawing blood. Yelena had been expecting this counterattack, and didn’t let is faze her. Tugging off the remainder of her rival’s sock, she gnawed at the bare sole. Meanwhile, she got to work on the remaining boot, tugging at it with both hands.

They battled like this for a time. Sally ravaged Yelena’s bare foot, leaving teethmarks in her sole, heel and toes. With her other hand, she clawed at the other foot, leaving scratch marks as high as the woman’s ankle. She kicked out with her free foot even as Yelena bit into it, smacking into her face and jamming her toes into the Russian’s mouth.

Yelena gave as good as she got; the playing field now closer to level, she bit and kicked every bit as hard as her rival. Her focus, though, was on that one remaining boot; once that was gone, so too was Sally’s advantage.

Sally was beginning to tire. The fight had been going on for a while, and even the two athletic women were starting to feel the toll. Worse still, Sally’s jumpsuit was restrictive, and designed to retain heat. She was drenched in sweat beneath the thick material, her attacks slowing as she overheated. Noticing her rival’s lapse, Yelena ramped up her attempts to tug the boot free.

This one came off easier than the last. Tugging with both hands, pressing her feet against her rival’s face for leverage, Yelena pulled the remaining boot free. Her moment of elation was interrupted as Sally kicked out with both of her now bare feet, striking Yelena in the stomach. Winded, the cosmonaut was unable to prevent herself from being flung backwards, releasing her grip. She collided hard with the wall.

For a moment, neither woman spoke. They stared at one another, backs against opposite walls, chests heaving from the exertion of the prolonged fight.

Although Yelena had taken the brunt of the battle damage, Sally had not escaped unharmed; Her face was red, her hair a tangled mess. She’d lost both boots and was down to a single white sock, her one bare foot riddled with scratches and teeth marks. Her jumpsuit clung to her skin, her body slick with sweat. Yelena sported similar injuries to her opponent, plus a bloody nose. Droplets of blood floated through the space in front of her as she tried in vain to wipe her face clean.

Minutes passed without a word. Both women knew that they should try to deescalate; they were professional astronauts, some of the most respected people in their field, and here they were catfighting like two schoolgirls.

And yet, neither could bring themselves to be the one to call for a truce.

Slowly, deliberately, Sally began to unzip her jumpsuit. Yelena watched in silence as she stripped down, throwing the garment to one side. Beneath, she wore a white tank top and a pair of skimpy white panties.

Yelana smirked. “So much for ‘appropriate uniform’! Look at those things, I can barely see them there’s so little material!”

Sally scowled back. “What the fuck does it matter what I’m wearing under my uniform?”

“Well you’ve certainly jumped at the opportunity to get your ass out.”

“I just wanted to make it an even fight!” In truth, Sally couldn’t bear to be stuck inside that restrictive, sweaty thing any longer.

“Oh, you wanted a fair fight! Didn’t seem that way when you were kicking me in the face with those fucking boots!”

“You were the one who started the kicking bitch! Shouldn’t have started a fight you couldn’t finish!”

“Who the fuck said I’m finished, cunt?” Spreading her arms wide, Yelena beckoned her enemy to come close.

Sally didn’t need to be told twice.

Pushing off of the wall behind her, she launched herself at her rival. Yelena kicked off to meet her.

They crashed together like two stormfronts, instantly tangling up in one another. Handfuls of hair were grasped, heads yanked viciously from side to side. Legs tangled, the two hellcats squeezing at one another with powerful thighs, bare feet kicking and scratching. They wrestled in the air, lurching back and forth as they tugged violently.

Hands tightly gripping the back of each other’s head, they pulled closer together. They snarled at one another, nose-to-nose, eyes locked in mutual hatred. Yelena gave her enemy’s hair a yank, revelling in satisfaction as Sally failed to keep the pain out of her eyes. Her excitement was cut short by a sharp tug to her own hair, eliciting an involuntary groan of pain. For a while, they hardly moved, focusing all of their efforts on causing as much pain as possible to their opponent’s scalp.

They might have stayed there forever, had Sally’s back not collided with the wall with enough force to make both women release their grip. As she began to drift away, Yelena reached out with both hands, frantic to stay close enough to inflict damage. She latched onto her enemy’s top, the momentum of her body stretching the material. A sharp tearing sound filled the air as the thin material came apart.

Sally let out a howl of rage at her torn garment, immediately taking hold of the other woman’s top with both hands and pulling in opposite directions. The material tore easily, opening a wide gash that revealed the cosmonaut’s black bra. Not to be outdone, Yelena tore into Sally’s top with renewed vigour, quickly shredding enough material to expose the American’s own skimpy white undergarment.

They made short work of it; within a minute, both women had been entirely stripped of their tops. Yelena was now down to only a bra and shorts, while Sally sported a bra and matching panties, along with a single white sock, bravely clinging onto her foot.

Tank tops now thoroughly dealt with, both women hunted for a new target. Fortunately, two brand new ones had just been uncovered. Yelena struck first, grasping a breast in each hand and squeezing tightly. Sally wasn’t far behind, taking two handfuls of tit. They held each other at arm’s length, squeezing and clawing at one another’s tender breasts. Moans of pain escaped from both women, tears glistening in each of their eyes.

Their legs flailed wildly as their hands wreaked havoc on one another’s chests. Sally connected with Yelena’s shin, eliciting a howl of pain from the Russian woman. Yelena returned fire by raking her toenails across Sally’s thigh, drawing blood that beaded off and drifted away from the wound. Sally responded with a swift kick aimed at the thigh, but found her foot colliding with Yelena’s. They locked up in a brief foot fight, pushing and shoving and pressing against one another before their sweat slicked soles slid apart. They kicked and scratched with their feet, all the while squeezing and clawing at one another’s breasts. Their eyes remained locked throughout, looks of hatred blurred by tears of pain.

Fairly quickly, Sally found herself at a major disadvantage. Yelena’s nails were long and intricately painted, and were wreaking havoc on Sally’s tits. Sally kept hers well trimmed, and while this made it easier for her to complete intricate tasks aboard the station, it left her severely lacking in the breast mauling department.

Their battle below the belt was a similar story; while Sally was not nearly as fastidious at keeping her toenails short, her one remaining sock limited her ability to claw and scratch. Yelena’s ten long, red-painted toes waged war against Sally’s five unpainted digits, and it was a slaughter. Angry red scratches soon criss-crossed the American’s legs, while the Russian woman’s were unscathed by comparison.

Eventually, Sally could take no more. Her breasts were in agony, her legs burning with pain from toe to thigh. She raised her socked foot between them, planting it against Yelena’s stomach and shoving hard. The Russian woman let out a gasp as the wind was forced out of her, Sally’s breasts slipping from her grasp as she hurtled back across the room. The momentum sent Sally in the opposite direction, and both women once again crashed into the walls behind them.

Yelena’s chest heaved. Every part of her body ached; her bloody nose, her burning scalp, her tender breasts. Her stomach, thighs and shins were battered, bruised and scratched. She felt like she’d been hit by a train.

As bad as Yelena felt, Sally felt worse. The last time their battle had lulled, it had been the Russian woman who had been worse off, with her face bruised and bloodied. This time though, Sally had taken the worst of it; her tits throbbed where Yelena had gouged at the flesh with her talons and her legs burned from the agony of dozens of scratches.

Their eyes met across the room. Sally felt like she should say something; she was on the back foot, she should make some scathing remark to hide how beaten she felt, to try to save face. She couldn’t think of anything.

Yelena was equally speechless; she wanted to gloat, to boast about how she’d come back from being on the receiving end of a boot to the face. Like her rival, words failed her. What was there to say now that the morning’s events hadn’t already made clear? What words could get across what a boot to the face, or a claw in the tit couldn’t?

And so they floated in silence, eyes locked as they caught their breath. This time, the thought of deescalation didn’t even register; they were in it until the bitter end. With four hundred kilometres separating them from the rest of the human race, there was nobody to stop them from seeing this through.

Slowly, Sally reached down to peel the remaining sock from her foot; at this point, it was nothing more than a hindrance. She tore the article free, allowing it to drift away. Yelena took the act as a challenge. Reaching around behind herself, she slowly unhooked her bra. Sally failed to keep the surprise from her face as the garment floated away, setting free Yelena’s sizeable breasts.

Surprise notwithstanding, Sally wasn’t about to let the other woman superior; she quickly unhooked her own bra and let it drift away. Yelena simply stared, unimpressed. After a brief pause, Sally reached down and, in one swift motion, tore her panties free. Yelena’s eyes widened in surprised; she hadn’t fully expected the prude to take her top off, let along strip off entirely. Not to be outdone however, she quickly removed her own underwear.

Two astronauts floated at opposite ends of a room, naked as the day they were born. Debris filled the air around them; articles of clothing, strips of fabric, clumps of hair, equipment from an experiment long forgotten. Stripped down to nothing, hundreds of miles from the next nearest person, nothing remained to keep them from each other.

They pounced.

They collided chest to chest, breasts flattening painfully. Immediately, they wrapped their arms around one another in a bear hug and began to claw at the sweat slickened skin of their rival’s bare back. Their legs intertwined and began to wrestle wildly, feet rubbing together. Their faces were inches apart, eyes wide with fury, noses flattening.

For a while, they struggled in the air in a stalemate, two naked bodies writhing like a pair of mating pythons. Despite both of their injuries, they remained evenly matched.

Sally broke the stalemate. With a snarl, she lashed out, biting down hard on Yelena’s cheek. With a shriek, the Russian woman lurched backwards, ripping her face away from the enemy’s grip. Her shock soon turned to fury.

“YOU BITCH!” she screamed.

Lurching forwards, she clamped down hard on the American’s nose with her teeth. It was Sally’s turn to shriek as she tried in vain to pull her face away from danger; Yelena’s grip on her nose was tight though, and she had no inclination to let go. She tried desperately to escape, grabbing the other woman’s hair and trying to yank her head away. When that failed, she tried throwing punches, pounding on the woman’s bare back, stomach and chest. Still nothing.

Tears in her eyes, Sally made a last ditch attempt to free herself. Reaching down, she squeezed her hand between the pair’s interlocked legs and dug her fingers into her enemy’s pussy. Even her short nails were enough to cause excruciating pain to the sensitive flesh between Yelena’s legs and the Russian woman instinctively opened her mouth to scream.

Sally capitalised, placing her hand against the woman’s cheek and shoving hard. Their torsos came apart, tightly locked legs keeping them together. Sally made no move to remove either of her hands.

“YOU CUNT!” Yelena screamed, her voice muffled by Sally’s hand.

The cosmonaut thrust her own hand down between Sally’s legs, her fingers sinking into the tender flesh. Sally couldn’t help letting out a yelp of pain as the Russian woman’s long nails dug in. She retaliated, raking her own nails across Yelena’s pussy. At the same time, she dug the heel of her palm into the woman’s cheek. Yelena retaliated, slamming her own hand across Sally’s face and pushing hard.

Both women forced the other’s head back. Yelena felt teeth sinking into her fingers as she pulled at the corner of Sally’s mouth. Sally felt teeth sinking into her palm in response. 

Meanwhile, in the small gap between their legs, an even more vicious clash was taking place. Claws were dragged back and forth across the skin, each woman taking great pleasure in the moans of pain they elicited from their rival.

There they remained, locked in a stalemate in the air, clawing and biting and straining against one another. As she raked at her enemy’s pussy, Yelena noticed something; there was a wetness between the American’s legs; not blood or sweat, but… something else.

She smirked. “Well, well, well! Seems like you’re enjoying this! Maybe you’re not as much of a prude as I thought!”

Sally should have been mortified; her body had given her away. As painful as the attack on her pussy was, the non-stop grinding of the pair’s legs, the closeness of their bodies, and the motion of Yelena’s hand as it rubbed between her thighs had caused an involuntary reaction. She’d hoped that Yelena would be too distracted by the pain to notice.

Fortunately for Sally, she wasn’t the only whose body had betrayed her.

“Like you can talk!” the American spat. “You’re enjoying this as much as either of us. It’s like a swamp down there!”

Yelena’s smirk dropped. “Oh please! You’re wetter than I am. I guess you aren’t used to this much bodily contact!”

“No fucking way I’m wetter than you! Just look at your face, it’s bright red. You’re so turned on by me it’s embarrassing!”

“You’re so much wetter, you dirty bitch! Feels like you’re about to cum any minute now!”

“Fuck you, slut! You’re gonna cum way before me!”

“Wanna bet?”

Their struggle slowed as they argued. They removed their hands from between one another’s legs, burying them in one another’s hair instead, still wet. The wrestling of their legs didn’t stop—but it did change pace. Their writhing was slower now, more sensual than before.

As their pussies grinded together, their gazes remained locked. There was something different in their eyes too; the hate hadn’t gone, but something else had joined it—lust. Yelena moaned as Sally yanked on her hair, digging her claws into her rival’s cheek is response. Their groans of pain quickly became indistinguishable from their mounting moans of pleasure. They pulled closer and closer together as their movements got quicker and quicker.

As their noses met, Sally felt two hands bury into her hair behind her head. She quickly responded, pulling the Russian woman in as close as humanly possible. She could feel the heat emanating from the other woman’s cheek as it pressed against her own, hear her breathless moans as their lips brushed. Yelena felt the frantic beating of her rival’s heart as their chests met, see the the look of pure ecstasy in the woman’s piercing gaze.

As she struggled, Sally opened her mouth wide, forcing her tongue into the cosmonaut’s mouth in a kiss as passionate as it was hateful. Yelena reciprocated, forcing her way past her enemy’s lips.

They were close now. Yelena struggled to hold back. She was acutely aware of every point where their bodies met—their pussies grinding harder by the second; their tongues wrestling and writhing in their mouths; their rock hard nipples digging into each other as their breasts flattened; their sweaty feet rubbing together as their legs rose and fell.

Yelena knew she couldn’t hold it back any longer. Sally could sense how close she was too, it seemed; she ramped up her grinding even further. Yelena’s muffled moans reached a fever pitch. She felt it building up inside her. She knew it would only be seconds now. Her breath was getting quicker and quicker, her arousal growing. She closed her eyes, ready for the bliss to overcome her, and then…

Sally screamed. She arched her back as she came hard, the ecstasy coursing through every inch of her body. Yelena’s release came a second later.

They separated, slowly drifting apart. Both women were hot, sticky with sweat, blood and cum, and flushed red from head to toe. Their chests heaved as they recovered from the physicality of the last hour.

The room was silent but for the heavy breathing of the two combatants. Yelena considered saying something; a boast, perhaps, a wry comment on the bizarre situation they’d found themselves in. She could think of nothing to say.

Slowly, for what felt like the first time in hours, Sally broke eye contact. She spun, placing her feet against the wall and pushing off, drifting dejectedly towards the bedroom.

Yelena was exhausted. She was drained both physically and emotionally, covered in bruises, bleeding from a dozen different scratches and bites, her nose clogged with dried blood. As the adrenaline of the fight waned, her myriad wounds started to throb with pain.

And yet, she felt nothing but elation; when she’d woken this morning, she’d dreaded spending the next few weeks stuck with the woman she hated, four hundred kilometres removed from the rest of the human race. Now though, that dread was gone.

Yelena smiled. Six more days remained until the rest of the crew returned, and she was going to enjoy every second of it.

The End

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